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UNIVERSITY OF 
ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
In 2022 with funding from 
University of Illinois Uroana-Champaign 


https://archive.org/details/wifeoffirstconsu00imbe_0 


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THE 


WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL 


BY 


IMBERT DE SAINT-AMAND 


TRANSLATED BY 


THOMAS SERGEANT PERRY 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
1898 


CoPpyrRIGHt, 1890, 


By CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS. 


CONTENTS. 


Leman Hwa 
PAGE 
INTRODUCTION 2.2 cccsccscoese eaecea esa qiaais 6 a a eiaia civ a ahta ae oak 
A Leds 
THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE. 

CHAPTER 
PU EIM LA AEMHOURG. ds che o's cela s je ancsedeicelsn'e seas c's es 21 
II. THe Format ENTRANCE INTO THE TUILERIES........ 33 
Ill. Tue TurLerIes AT THE BEGINNING OF THE CONSULATE 41 
Pvc LARISIAN SOCIETY IN THE. YeAR VIII... oe 5 cs oe 52 
emer. WO: NATIONAL NRSTIVALS. «oc 05 cinlecc osc. eeten 63 
PIPED AT MAISON GING LOU. ', at ea'cie Siela's is0's Wis ene ais case ters 75 
VII. Tue Inrernat MACHINE ....... A Ao. 85 
VIII. Paristan Society rn 1800........ Maa secda wate tie arth gre 98 
Pe MM LMAISONCIN ITS GLORY ..cscccvcicrsecneccsvascss 114 
PemPrIOUTHNSH DMO GRA UHARWAIS |. 05 coco cs cass cc esissy 129 
Pelee AAR LOUIS DONAPARTE.3....00vsecctvesee cence 140 
SRP OMM OMOT oy Cagis. sks ee ness xvas Kwos so oan hx ee 152 
ell Tam Ze Deum FOR THE CONCORDAT 2... ccescccacess 166 
Seaver OREPHING AND THE KOYALISTS ..... 00s ne5es0s enna 178 
XV. THe End oF THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE........... 187 


Vl CONTENTS. 
PAT Te: 
THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 

CHAPTER PAGE 
Lo THe PALace OF SAINvTeECEOUD TG... ++. et ee eee 199 
IL. “Cen CONSULATE FOR: Dine cs. ces cee see cee bie ee eee 216 
IT: JOSEPHING “IN OL808 sce: ee via eae cpeton sateen soe 234 
TV; MADAME Di REMUSAT ON s sce vores + oe shirts einen: oe 244 
V: ‘Tae Trip: To BELGIUM o. 0s ss + vacwnte eect aes 261 
VI ola) PRINCESS “BORGHESE. i eis2e nialeent’s «sare ele teeter eee 276 
Vil) AML ADAMBS MOREAU sce aclelssrccie tues aiid’ wuslege there yon0ts ate 287 
Will aelume CONSPIRAGY caso sts cee caters tines tale RA orice 300 
IX. Tue ARREST OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN .........4. 312 
X. THe DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN..........+-. S21 
Xie lH LAST Days: Of THE CONSULATE). «.... 00s eee 3937 


fate Wilh esORe hI ERIKS T e@ONSUE 


PoeaWwIke OR THE FIRST CONSUL 


INTRODUCTION. 


ig the modest church of Rueil, on each side of the 
altar, there stand, face to face, two funeral monu- 
ments which call forth a host of memories. The one 
to the right represents a woman kneeling at a prayer- 
desk, in full dress, but with no royal insignia, and 
the simple inscription runs thus: ‘To Josephine. 
Eugene and Hortense, 1825.” The statue, which is 
of Carrara marble, is the work of the sculptor Cartel- 
lier. In the foundation of the pedestal rests the body 
of the woman who was Empress of the French and 
Queen of Italy. Opposite, a group in white marble, 
the work of the sculptor Barre, represents a woman 
and an angel. The woman, who is kneeling, wears 
a regal diadem, and she is wrapped in the folds of 
a long veil. Her attitude is that of prayer, with her 
hands lowered towards the earth, and her eyes raised 
towards heaven. Before her one may see a crown, 
a few laurels, and a lyre, but her melancholy face 


expresses a feeling of contempt for these toys which 
1 


2, THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


are so trivial on earth, and so much more trivial in 
face of eternity. It is indeed the sad woman, rid of 
all illusions, who in 1807 said to Napoleon: “My 
reputation is tainted, my health broken, I expect no 
further happiness in this life; expel me from your 
heart, if you wish it, bury me in a convent, I desire 
neither throne nor wealth. Give my mother peace, 
grant to Eugene the glory which he deserves, but let 
me live quiet and alone.” Above the statue floats 
an angel who, with a gesture at once protecting and 
consoling, shows to the unhappy queen the eternal 
spheres. On the pedestal is cut this inscription: 
“To Queen Hortense, her son Napoleon III.” 

The remains of the Queen do not lie in the foun. 
dation of this monument; they rest beneath it in a 
crypt shut off by a gate of wrought iron, to which 
leads a staircase in the corner of the church. The 
arches of the vault are upheld by clusters of short 
and massive columns. A funeral lamp and two 
bronze candelabra cast a dim glow over this vault, 
into which the light of day never falls. At the back 
of the crypt, beneath an arcade, may be descried the 
huge tomb, which seems to be covered with a royal 
mantle, carved in stone, and surmounted by a golden 
palm, with the arms of the French Empire and those 
of Holland. On the tomb is this inscription: ‘ Hor- 
tense Eugénie de Beauharnais, Duchess of Saint-Leu, 
Queen of Holland, born in Paris, April 10, 1783; 
daughter by her first marriage of Marie Rose Jose- 
phine Tascher de la Pagerie, Empress of the French, 


INTRODUCTION. 3 


and of Viscount Alexandre de Beauharnais; daugh- 
ter-in-law and sister-in-law of Napoleon I., Emperor 
of the French; married in Paris, January 8, 1802, to 
Louis Napoleon, King of Holland; died at her castle 
of Arenenberg, October 5, 1857.” The two women, 
the mother and the daughter, are united in death, as 
they were in life. It is impossible to look without 
emotion at this last resting-place of such vanished 
splendor, of such fallen greatness, and Bossuet’s 
thoughts on the nothingness of human things occur 
to one in this village church with its two eloquent 
oraves. 

These two graves are appropriately placed under 
the vaults of the modest church, the bells of which, 
according to Bourrienne, made a deep impression 
upon Bonaparte. Near by is the estate of Malmaison, 
which was for Josephine what the Little Trianon was 
for Marie Antoinette, a poetic and fateful spot, which, 
after having been the abode of enchantments, success, 
and boundless hopes, became that of despair, humilia- 
tion, of cruel struggles, of agony, of death, and which 
finally deserved its name of evil omen, Malmaison, 
mala mansio. 

I am approaching the region of legend, and recall 
Isabey’s celebrated drawing; I seem to see the First 
Consul walking alone, in uniform, before the building. 
I summon memories of the beautiful days and starlit 
nights, of Malmaison in the year VIII., of the dinners 
in the open air, the games upon the grass, of the balls 
in which all the women are dressed in white. I see 


4. THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Hortense de Beauharnais, a bright and merry girl, 
running, swift as Atalanta, in the garden; or in the 
theatre at the end of the gallery, playing Rosina in 
the “Barber of Seville” like a consummate actress. 
I am back in the consular court, which is still repub- 
lican, full of charm, of vivacity, rich in youth, glory, 
and hope, with but little dread of the catastrophes 
hid in the dark future. 

Nine years pass, and what a change! Poor Jose- 
phine, broken with grief, enters once more the house 
where not long before she had arrived in joy. Her 
dark presentiments have been realized. ‘The woman 
to whom the conqueror of Italy used to write burn- 
ing love-letters is now disgraced, disowned, and driven 
forever from the Tuileries. She has just drunk to 
the dregs the chalice of the bitterness of divorce 
which she had prayed to be spared. It is a cold, wet 
December night; the withered leaves le about like 
dead illusions; the wind wails, and nature moans. 
The abode of happiness is become a Calvary. What 
a night the wretched woman passes in the room which 
she used to occupy with Napoleon! And when she 
wakes in the morning, what a sad eye she turns 
towards the trees which once shaded so much happi- 
ness! In the course of the day Napoleon comes to 
pay an icy visit to his divorced wife; he walks for a 
few moments with her in the park and leaves her 
without a kiss. 

I picture to myself the melancholy scenes of May 
29, 1814, Whitsunday. Josephine is lying at the 


INTRODUCTION. 5 


point of death in that chamber of Malmaison, sur- 
rounded by her children, visitors, and friends, “as 
gentle in the face of death as she always had been to 
every one.” When the Emperor left for the island 
of Elba, she said, “ Napoleon is in distress, and I 
can’t be with him.” The impossibility of devoting 
herself to him was a terrible blow to her. “I have 
been a witness,” said Mademoiselle Avrillon, ‘of the 
sleeplessness of the Empress Josephine, and her ter- 
rible dreams. I have known her to pass whole days 
buried in gloomy thoughts. I know what I have 
seen and heard, and [ am sure that it was grief that 
killed her.” In her last moments she awoke from 
her stupor only at intervals, and in a sort of quiet 
delirium these few words escaped her, betraying 
all the anguish of her heart: ‘“ Bonaparte, Elba, Marie- 
Louise !” 

A year later, during the Hundred Days, Napoleon 
went to Malmaison before the ceremony of the 
Champ de Mai. He was received by Queen Hor- 
tense, and at his entrance into the vestibule he be- 
trayed profound emotion. This he controlled, how- 
ever, with his wonted energy, and he desired to visit 
everything, the house and the park. He wandered 
about, deep in thought; one would have said that 
from one path to another he was pursuing a shadow. 
Then he took his place at the table, where he saw 
the place that Josephine had left empty. The break- 
fast was short and silent. On rising from the table, 
the Emperor passed into the gallery, and looked at 


6 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


every one of the pictures, which were fixed in his 
memory. Then he went upstairs, and came to the 
door of the room where his wife, whom he had loved 
so warmly, had died. Hortense wished to follow 
him. “No, my daughter,” he said; “I wish to go in 
alone.” Abandoned by the ungrateful Marie-Louise, 
Napoleon fell into meditation before the death-bed of 
the grateful Josephine. Doubtless he craved forgive- 
ness for the divorce; and he said to himself, at the 
bottom of his heart, “It’s because I deserted this 
woman that fortune has deserted me.” The whole 
drama of his life unrolled itself before his eyes. A 
world of memories rose before him like a tide. Oh, 
if one could but seize some part of the past! If hope 
could take the place of memory! If faded flowers 
would but bloom again! But, alas! everything had 
slipped through his fingers. Napoleon left Jose- 
phine’s room with tears in his eyes. 

Possibly he had thought that at Malmaison he 
would, as it were, dip into a healthful spring, and that 
there, in this home of his glorious youth, he should 
find again his self-confidence, his faith in his star; 
but it was a vain hope. The wife who had brought 
him good fortune was no more. Once again he was 
to return to Malmaison, but after Waterloo; and it 
was there that he stayed after his second abdication 
for five days, from the 25th to the 29th of June, 1815. 
It was again Queen Hortense who received him, a 
respectful and faithful friend in his misfortune. The 
sky was clear, the sun brilliant, but the heart of the 


INTRODUCTION. 7 


man who was about to become a prisoner was as dark 
as the tomb. Long before he had said: “One sees 
everything through a gilded veil which makes it 
bright and clear. Gradually, as one goes on, this 
veil thickens, until at last it becomes almost black.” 
This moment had come; a long crape veil stretched 
over the shadows over the horizon. The beaten sol- 
dier of Waterloo walked until he was worn out in 
the park of Malmaison, where he passed his last 
hours as a free man, talking continually to Hortense 
about Josephine, whose portrait he wished to have. 
But what did he hear? The roar of the cannon in 
the plain of Saint Denis. What did he see? Offi- 
cers and old soldiers arriving in ragged uniforms, 
stained with dust, who told him of the progress of 
the enemy. Bltcher had unwisely separated himself 
from Wellington; the Allies were advancing in two 
columns of about sixty thousand men each, leaving 
so much space between them that either could be 
crushed before the other could come to its rescue. 
The man of battle felt all his genius aroused. In 
the night between the 28th and the 29th of June he 
made his plans; if he could be given the command, 
he promised to beat in detail the Prussians and the 
English with the ruins of his Waterloo army. In 
the morning of the 29th he commissioned General 
Beker to carry the following message to Fouché and 
the other members of the Provisional Government, 
sitting at the Tuileries. “TI offer,” he said, “to place 
myself at the head of the army, which at the sight of 


8 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


me will recover all its spirit, to fall upon the enemy 
with desperate energy, and to punish him for his 
rashness. I give my word as a general, a soldier, and 
a citizen, not to retain the command for one hour 
after the certain and crushing victory which I prom- 
ise to gain, not for myself, but for France.” 

Napoleon, in full uniform, waited with his aides 
for the answer of the Provisional Government; if it 
were favorable, he meant to mount his horse at once. 
General Beker returned, bringing a refusal, and the 
man of Austerlitz submitted. If Napoleon sinned by 
pride, how severely he was punished! He, who a 
short time ago made the world tremble, was com- 
pelled to consult a regicide, a former accomplice of 
the cruelties of the comedian Collot d’Herbois. He, 
the hero of battles, consecrated by the Pope, the man 
of destiny, the modern Cesar, the new Charlemagne, 
obliged to submit to the refusal and the contempt 
of Fouché ! 

It is easy to imagine the wrath of the young aides- 
de-camp, impatient to follow him, certain of victory, 
when they were obliged to sheathe their swords 
again, to unsaddle their impatient steeds, and to see 
the last dream of patriotism and glory disappear. 
Who can describe the torture of such an hour for a 
character like Napoleon’s? The plaudits of the mul- 
titude, the enthusiastic shouts of the soldiers, the 
intoxicating joys of the triumph, the solemn entry 
within the walls of conquered capitals, the bulletins 
of famous victories, ovations, hosannas, — they were 
all cruelly avenged! 


INTRODUCTION. 9 


All was over. He had to bow before an implaca- 
ble fate; he had to leave before the end of the day. 
The preparations for departure were completed. The 
Prussians were advancing on the left bank of the 
Seine, between Argenteuil and Chaton; if he had 
remained a few hours longer, he would have been 
their prisoner. He had just taken off his uniform 
and put on citizen’s dress. His mother, his brothers, 
and a few soldiers, a few courtiers of misfortune, had 
assembled to bid him an eternal farewell. Since he 
had not thought of providing himself with money, 
Queen Hortense begged him to accept a diamond 
necklace. At first he refused; but when she insisted 
with tears, he let her hide the necklace in his coat. 
After having urged unity and courage upon them all, 
he embraced his faithful friends for the last time. 
The last one of whom he took leave was his mother. 
Their separation recalls the grand scenes of an- 
tiquity, which were sublime in their simplicity. 
“Farewell, my son,” said Madame Letitia. The 
Emperor answered, “Mother, farewell.” He got 
into his carriage, and left Malmaison forever. 

To the right of the castle is to be seen a stone ped- 
estal, on which there stood, until 1870, a bronze eagle 
with this touching inscription: “The last step of 
Napoleon, when leaving for Rochefort, June 29, 1815, 
at four o’clock in the afternoon.” Why was the 
eagle torn from the pedestal with the inscription? 
It could not excite anger. It was no longer the 
royal bird, floating in the clouds, gazing at the sun ; 


10 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


it was the wounded eagle, fluttering along the 
ground, like the swallow before a storm. Oh, the 
melancholy of greatness! Vicissitudes of fate! how 
eloquent is your language in these times of revolu- 
tion, when fortune seems to make sport of kings and 
emperors! How insignificant is man, and how hard 
it is to find any trace of his footsteps ! 

In the month of August, 1831, a woman was weep- 
ing before the iron gate of Malmaison; with her was 
a young man of twenty-three, who shared her grief. 
This young man was her son. She insisted on being 
admitted, but entrance was obstinately refused. This 
woman was Queen Hortense; the young man was 
the future emperor Napoleon III. The mother and 
the son had just been kneeling before the tomb of 
Josephine in the church of Ruvil, and it is thus that 
the former queen describes the emotion that she felt 
then: “ What a drear feeling came over me when I 
knelt before that cherished image and sadly thought 
that of all whom she had loved I alone remained 
with my son, isolated, and compelled to flee the spot 
where she reposed. The great number of flowers 
covering this monument, which my brother and I 
had such difficulty in getting permission to build, 
proved to me that at any rate she was lying among 
friends who held her memory dear. Her daughter 
only was forgotten.” 

It was after this pious visit to the church of Rueil, 
where she herself was one day to be buried, that 
Queen Hortense and her son wished to revisit Mal- 


INTRODUCTION. 11 


maison. She said: “I stopped at the gate of the 
castle, and insisted upon entering. It is from there 
that the Emperor started to leave France forever... . 
It was impossible to secure any remission of the 
orders of the new proprietor, who had forbidden 
entrance to the castle without a card. My nephew 
had sold Malmaison to a banker, who kept a part of 
the gardens and the castle, and had sold the rest. It 
was difficult to recognize the place, and I could not 
believe myself at the same spot which I had left so 
beautiful, where I had always been so gladly received, 
when admission to it was so cruelly denied me.” 

How painful it must have been to see strangers 
thus occupying a dwelling which she had inhabited 
with those she loved! It is a bit of the irony of 
fate, which seems to take a pleasure in persecuting 
wretched humanity with refined cruelty. The Mal- 
maison of Napoleon and of Josephine, the home of 
his glory as consul, the last refuge of the defeated 
soldier of Waterloo before his departure for the rock 
of Saint Helena, all this belonging to strangers, while 
the woman who had so shone there had not the right 
to enter the house to go and pray in the room where 
she had seen her mother draw her last breath! No 
one recognized her. She had hoped to find there 
what her heart had left, to catch in the song of the 
birds some trace of departed joys, or of her old 
griefs in the murmur of the wind. But nature is 
insensible to our sorrows, and nothing remains of our 
dreams and illusions. 


12 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


In 1842 another unhappy sovereign, Queen Chris- 
tina of Spain, in one of her excursions in the neigh- 
borhood of Paris, visited the estate of Malmaison, 
attracted by the painful memories which clung about 
the place. She bought the castle and lived in it 
until 1861. On one side she built a chapel, now 
empty; but the arms of the Spanish Bourbons yet 
remain above the place where the Queen used to 
pray. In 1861 she consented to sell Malmaison to 
the Emperor, who paid eleven hundred thousand 
francs and presented it to the state as a sort of 
national jewel. The castle was restored and deco- 
rated, and assumed its former aspect under the days 
of the Consulate and the Empire. One day Napoleon 
III. shut himself for several hours in the gallery, and 
with his own hands hung up the principal pictures 
in the places where he remembered having seen them 
when he was a child. 

In 1867, at the time of the Exposition, the Em- 
press Eugénie conceived the excellent idea of collect- 
ing at Malmaison and the Little Trianon the various 
objects, pictures and furniture, which could be proved 
to have belonged to the illustrious occupants of these 
two historic mansions. The French, and even more 
noticeably foreigners, crowded thither and gazed with 
a sort of awe at the two valuable museums; for 
foreigners take perhaps a deeper interest in the 
glories of France than do the French themselves. 
At Malmaison they saw the council-table of the min- 
isters, Josephine’s tapestry-frame and harp, the Em- 


INTRODUCTION. 13 


peror’s field-desk, the clock that stood in his room at 
Saint Helena, the little iron bed with green silk cur- 
tains in which he died. Malmaison had never been 
so crowded with visitors ; but this climax of its fame 
was not far removed from a probably final decay. 

The janitress, who was in the service of Queen 
Christina, and has been in the castle ever since, de- 
scribes the last incidents that have come under notice, 
with a sort of vigorous and popular eloquence. She 
says that in 1867 she noticed in the park some Ger- 
mans in civil dress, who were examining everything 
about them with the greatest care, and that in the 
war she saw the same Germans again, this time in 
uniform, take possession of the castle; and that a 
few days before the war broke out, the young Prince 
Imperial came to visit Malmaison, and that she was 
struck by his melancholy expression. She adds, that 
just as he was leaving, a thunder-storm broke forth, 
and a tree which had been planted by Napoleon and 
Josephine was half shattered by the ightning. “An 
evil omen,” she said. Then she goes on to tell how 
they managed to bind up the old tree-trunk; but that 
when they began to divide the place into house-lots, 
in 1879, the tree was cut down and uprooted. At 
the same time Josephine’s descendant, the heir of the 
Napoleons, was dying in Zululand. 

After the fall of the Second Empire, the state sold 
Malmaison to a private person. The park was cut 
up into lots and sold to different buyers, who are 
building houses. The fagade of the castle is intact, 


14 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


but the interior is in a melancholy state of dilapida- 
tion, shorn of ornaments, furniture, and hangings. 

Malmaison, which at the beginning of the century 
was, as it were, a symbol of France under the Con- 
sulate; Malmaison, still full of the gigantic plans 
and the proud dreams of the ambitious hero of 
Marengo; Malmaison, sacked in 1815 by Blicher’s 
soldiers, — became in the last war a Prussian barrack. 
The troops of the victor at Sedan installed them- 
selves in triumph where the First Consul, in his mili- 
tary court, had worn his most martial air. Silent 
and deserted, Malmaison seems like a tomb. Its bare 
walls are gloomier than ruins. Yet there is a certain 
majesty in their bareness. The stones of the castle 
speak that mysterious language which may be heard 
in the silence. No man with feeling for poetry or 
history can enter this house without being filled with 
respect. One lowers one’s voice and steps softly, as 
if dreading to disturb the sleep of illustrious hosts. 
The deserted halls seem to be tenanted by phantoms 
of the past. In the twilight one would say that it is 
a haunted spot, and haunted by what ghosts! 

How many cataclysms there have been in France 
during the last century! The scythe wielded by war 
and revolution commits more grievous ravages than 
those of time. Of all the buildings which were the 
scene of the last agonies of Louis XVI. and Marie 
Antoinette, what is now left? The Tuileries are 
burned. There is not one stone left of the Manége 
where Louis XVI. was tried, of the Temple tower 


INTRODUCTION. 15 
a 
which served as prison for the unhappy monarch and 
his family. The little dungeon of the Queen in the 
Conciergerie alone remains, and the crowds who daily 
pass through the place of her execution do not know 
even where the martyr’s scaffold stood. And what 
is left of what one may call the scenery of the con- 
sular epoch? The house in the rue de la Victoire, 
whence issued the 18th Brumaire, is destroyed, its 
very site is not to be determined ; Saint Cloud and the 
Tuileries! are mere stone skeletons. Shells and pe- 
troleum have destroyed everything. Great stretches 
of the sky appear through the empty arches, and one 
would say that these fresh ruins are as old as Pom- 
peii or Herculaneum. The superb appearance of the 
two palaces which they were in their splendor is so 
deeply printed on the memory, that at certain mo- 
ments one, gazing at the ruins, would think himself 
the victim of a nightmare, and would expect on 
waking to find the two monuments as they were 
before the fire. If Josephine could come back to life, 
how surprised she would be at this destruction ! 
What would be her reflections before the ruins of the 
Tuileries and of Saint Cloud! What an impression 
would be produced by Malmaison dilapidated and 
deserted ! 

Well, if revolutions destroy, let history yet try to 
build up what they have pitilessly overthrown! His- 
tory is a reconstruction, which will permit us to see 


1 The ruins of the Tuileries have been removed since the above 
was written. — Tr. 


16 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


again with the eyes of our soul what we can no longer 
see with our real eyes, to build up ruins, to people 
empty halls, to hear amid the silence the echo of con- 
versation, of the trumpets, of the orchestras of former 
days. There may reach our ear the distant sound of 
Josephine’s gentle voice which the First Consul used 
to prefer to the applause of his people and his army. 
Let us summon forth the image of this woman under 
the ancient trees which have survived so many disas- 
ters. While we think of her, we shall gaze at the 
views which so often charmed her, at the prospect 
which was for her a consoling friend, at the river 
which flowed beneath her feet. Let us consult her 
friends: here are her husband’s secretaries, Bourri- 
enne and Méneval; here is the lady in waiting, 
Madame de Rémusat; there is the Duchess of Ab- 
rantés, Miot de Mélito, Reederer, General de Ségur, 
Thibaudeau, Marmont, Lavalette. After long study 
of their memoirs, one seems to know the authors, to 
be near them, in the same room, exchanging ideas 
with them, listening to their reminiscences, hearing 
their anecdotes and their talk about the persons and 
events of bygone days. Let us ask them, in this 
sketch, to make us understand the character of the 
wife of the First Consul, and the part she played, 
to describe to us this period of four years and a half 
which was so brilliant and busy, to show us society 
forming itself anew, with drawing-rooms opening 
again, the foreign aristocracy resuming its journeys 
to Paris, the reopening of the opera balls..as luxury, 


INTRODUCTION. 17 


elegance, and fashion reassert themselves, while at 
the same time the populace easily exchanges liberty 
for glory, and sets a man above every institution. 

Fox said in 1802 that in the person of the First 
Consul there were three Bonapartes equally worthy 
of study; the one of Malmaison, of Saint Cloud, 
and of the Tuileries. As for Josephine, she was 
always and everywhere the same: affable, gracious, 
obliging, always seeking peace, sharing none of the 
severities, the anger, or the petulance of her hus- 
band, dissuading him from thoughts of vengeance, 
anxious to see him kind, generous, and inclined to 
pity. This modest, disinterested woman, who was 
essentially tender and good, is one of the most amia- 
ble and sympathetic figures of history. If her statue 
has been removed from the avenue leading from the 
Arch of Triumph which bore her name, her memory 
at any rate cannot perish. The charm which she 
exercised upon her contemporaries has survived, and 
even when one thinks, whether rightly or wrongly, 
that he has discovered flaws in her private life, one 
feels an attraction towards her. Whether alive or 
dead, good women deserve our love. That greatest 
quality, a woman’s real ornament, kindness, would 
make us pardon many faults. Josephine wished to 
call forth no tears but those of joy and gratitude. 
Her ambition was to be Bonaparte’s good angel. She 
often gave him wise advice, and the time of his most 
earnest devotion to her was that of his greatest suc- 
cess. 


18 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


In our opinion the Consulate is Napoleon’s high- 
water mark; his fall began with the murder of the 
Duke of Enghien, the inauguration of the imperial 
period. From that moment a cloud hangs over his 
star: this cloud is at first but a black point, but it 
erew from year to year, and at last produced the 
dense gloom of the final catastrophe. It was in vain 
that Napoleon accumulated crown upon crown for 
himself and his family ; the glory of the Emperor could 
not outshine the glory of the citizen. Josephine had 
a presentiment of this, and the throne filled her with 
a secret dread. She knew that as her greatness 
increased, her happiness would diminish, and yearned 
to descend as much as her husband aspired to rise. 


Alii ee 


THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE. 


THE LUXEMBOURG. 


N the 21st Brumaire, year VIII., there appeared 
() in the Moniteur the following short paragraph: 
“Paris, 20th Brumaire. The three Consuls have 
taken their seats in the Luxembourg. In the even- 
ing the public buildings and many private houses 
were illuminated.” From the moment of his instal- 
lation at the Luxembourg the future Cesar regarded 
himself as the absolute head of the state. “He is a 
pike who will swallow the two other fish,’ said 
Madame de Permont to his mother, Madame Bona: 
parte. ‘QO Panoria!” replied Madame Letitia, with 
reproachful accent, for at this moment she still be- 
lieved in the genuine republicanism of her son. “The 
surprising thing,” said Edgar Quinet, “is the way 
in which all combined to blind themselves. In fact, 
every one was new to servitude. Even those who 
ran towards it most eagerly imagined that they were 
acquiring a new form of liberty. . .. Not a day 
passed without an approach to absolute power, but no 
one seemed to perceive it.” Bonaparte, a sovereign 


in fact, was not yet one in appearance; he regarded 
21 


22 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


republican susceptibility, but gradually, by crafty 
and astute steps, he began to accustom men to his 
rule. The old customs begin to reappear one by one. 
Josephine ceases to be called Citoyenne Bonaparte, 
and the woman who is soon to be Empress of the 
French and Queen of Italy is designated as Madame 
Bonaparte. For a little while there are preserved 
the names of things which no longer exist, such as 
liberty and the Republic, and the future Emperor 
is still called the citizen First Consul. 

Bonaparte occupied in the little Luxembourg the 
apartment on the ground floor, to the right as one 
enters from the rue de Vaugirard. His office was near 
a hidden staircase leading to the first floor, where 
Josephine lived. After breakfast, which was served 
at ten o'clock, Bonaparte used to talk for a few min- 
utes with his aides-de-camp, and then he betook him: 
self to his work. 

‘On leaving the council,” says his secretary, Bour- 
rienne, “he would go to his office singing, and Heaven 
knows how out of tune he used to sing. He would 
sign a few letters, stretch himself in his easy-chair, 
and read a few letters of the evening before and the 
occasional publications of the day. When there was 
no council, he would stay in his office and talk with 
me, always singing and cutting the arm of his chair, 
sometimes looking like a big boy. Then he would 
start up, and sketch the plan of some monument 
which was to be built, or dictate the vast things 
which were to astonish or appal the world. . .. Din 


THE LUXEMBOURG. 43) 


ner was at five o’clock. After dinner the First Con- 
sul used to go up to Josephine’s apartment, where he 
was accustomed to receive the ministers; he always 
took pleasure in seeing the minister of foreign affairs, 
especially after that portfolio was in the hands of M. 
de Talleyrand. At midnight, and often earlier, he 
used to give the signal for breaking up, by saying 
suddenly, ‘ Let us go to bed!’” 

Josephine began to receive at the Luxembourg 
people of the old régime. The title of Madame 
pained more than one Republican who longed for the 
simpler Citoyenne. ‘They consoled themselves after- 


b) 


wards at the Tuileries,” says Bourrienne, “ by using 
Your Highness, on occasions of great ceremony, and 
merely Monseigneur in private.” The First Consul 
took the most careful precautions to combine certain 
revolutionary memories with the symptoms of reac- 
tion. He abolished the holiday of January 21, the 
anniversary of the execution of Louis XVI., but 
he preserved as national holidays the 14th of July 
and the 1st of Vendémiaire, in memory of the tak- 
ing of the Bastille and the establishment of the Re- 
public. He let his wife surround herself with people 
of the old court, but he married his third sister to a 
soldier of fortune, the son of an innkeeper of Cahors. 

It was at the Luxembourg that was celebrated, 
January 20, 1800, the civil marriage of Caroline 
Bonaparte with Murat, a general in command of a 
division. Not till two years later was the nuptial 
benediction given to the couple, on the occasion of 


ee 


24 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


the marriage of Hortense de Beauharnais with Louis 
Bonaparte. Murat, who was born at Cahors, March 
25, 1771, was’ not yet twenty-nine years old when he 
was married. Caroline, who was born at Ajaccio, 
March 25, 1782, was under eighteen. According to 
the author of the Recollections of Madame Réca- 
mier (Madame Récamier was very intimate with 
Madame Murat), ‘of all the sisters of Napoleon 
Caroline was the one who most resembled him. She 
was not so regularly beautiful as his sister Pauline 
(Madame Leclerc), but she belonged distinctly to 
the Napoleonic type; she was of a marvellously rich 
coloring; her intelligence was quick, her will impe- 
rious, and the contrast of the girlish grace of her face 
with the decision of her character made her a very 
attractive person. She continued to come, as she 
had done when a young girl, to all the entertain- 
ments at Madame Récamier’s, in the rue du Mont 
Blanc.” This is the portrait which the Duchess of 
Abrantés drew of her: “Caroline Bonaparte was a 
very pretty girl, as fresh as a rose, but in no way 
comparable, in regularity of feature, to Madame 
Leclerc. Still, she was very attractive on account 
of her expression and the astounding brilliancy of 
her complexion. Her skin was like white satin tinted 
with pink ; her feet, hands, and arms were even per- 
fect models, her teeth were charming, like those of 
all the Bonapartes.” Prince Metternich, who was a 
great admirer of her, said of her: ‘Caroline combined 
with an agreeable face a rare mind. She had care- 


THE LUXEMBOURG. 95 


fully studied her brother’s character, and had no 
illusion about any of his faults; she also knew the 
weak points in her husband’s character, and would 
have guided him if he had submitted to guidance.” 

Young, handsome, full of military enthusiasm, 
Murat shone in the first rank among these knights- 
errant of democracy; he was one of those illustri- 
ous plebeians who have no need of ancestors, because 
they are themselves ancestors. In the whole French 
army there was not such a proud cavalier. His pro- 
verbial bravery, his dashing steeds, his rich uniforms, 
the fire and gayety of his southern nature made him 
a popular figure. He could not make his appearance 
on the battle-field or at a review without attracting 
every eye. Yet, in fact, the First Consul had no 
sympathy for this brilliant officer. The Duchess 
of Abrantés thus explains his coolness: “ The true 
cause of Napoleon’s moderate friendship for Murat 
(for in spite of their relationship, he never loved 
him) was nothing but Murat’s rash conduct: when 
he came to Paris to bring the first flags won by the 
army of Italy. Those who know Napoleon’s charac- 
ter will easily understand how Murat injured himself 
by quietly boasting of his influence in the Directory, 
at the Ministry of War, through Madame Bonaparte 
and Madame Tallien.” 

In his Memoirs, Bourrienne refers to the same 
incident. He says that Madame Bonaparte and 
Madame Tallien had Murat appointed brigadier-gen- 
eral; that on his return to Italy he had incurred the 


26 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


disapproval of the commander-in-chief; that by the 
influence of these ladies he obtained a place in the 
army of Egypt, but that on the voyage thither, on 
board of the Orient, Bonaparte did not once speak to 
him. Bourrienne, indeed, goes so far as to insinuate 
that at Messoudiah, Murat’s was one of the two names 
mentioned by Junot to excite Bonaparte’s jealousy 
and his distrust of Josephine. But the bold officer 
performed such prodigies of valor, and was notably 
so conspicuous on the field of Aboukir, that the com- 
mander-in-chief could not refuse him the expression 
of his satisfaction. 

Murat’s conduct at Saint Cloud on the 19th Bru- 
maire brought about a perfect reconciliation with 
Bonaparte, who appointed him commander of the 
Consular Guard. Nevertheless, when he came to the 
Luxembourg to ask for the hand of Caroline, Bona- 
parte at first did not favor his suit. He hesitated to 
give to a plebeian his sister, who had already been 
sought by a great Italian nobleman, the Prince of 
Santa Croce. He thought, too, that there were in 
the army abler and more famous generals than 
Murat; as, for example, Moreau and Augereau. But 
Caroline and Murat had been in love since the Ital- 
ian campaign, and their marriage was warmly favored 
by Josephine. 

When Murat made his demand, Bonaparte received 
him with unbending gravity, and gave no positive 
answer. In the evening this proposal was the sub- 
ject of conversation in the drawing-room of the 


THE LUXEMBOURG. oT 


Luxembourg. Josephine, Hortense, and Bourrienne 
warmly pleaded Murat’s cause. To their earnest 
arguments the First Consul replied: “ Murat is the 
son of an innkeeper. In the lofty rank in which for- 
tune and glory have placed me, I cannot mingle his 
blood with mine. Besides, there is no hurry; I will 
see about it later.” Murat’s two supporters were 
not discouraged; they spoke earnestly of his love for 
Caroline, of his devotion to the First Consul, of his 
excellent conduct in Egypt. “Yes, I acknowledge,” 
said Bonaparte, “that Murat was superb at Aboukir.” 
Josephine and Hortense redoubled their solicitations, 
and before the end of the evening the First Consul 
had given his consent. Before he went to bed he 
said to Bourrienne, “ Well, you ought to be satisfied ; 
and Iam, too. On the whole, Murat suits my sister, 
and then people won’t say that I am proud, and 
seeking grand marriages. If I had given my sister 
to a nobleman, all your Jacobins would have been 
shrieking out, Counter-revolution.” 

According to General de Ségur, two considerations 
had decided the First Consul: “one, which the study 
of the innermost secrets of the human heart, every- 
where the same, can alone explain, was the secret 
satisfaction that he felt at Madame Bonaparte’s 
intercession in favor of the marriage; the other, 
which was entirely political, proved the truth of 
what Napoleon said about himself; namely, that his 
ambitious advance was gradual and the result of 
events; that his ambition grew always according to 


28 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


the circumstances, and that finally the lofty height 
to which it attained was in no way premeditated at 
the beginning.” If, in 1800, he married his sister to 
the son of an innkeeper, it was because he was not at 
all sure of becoming one day Emperor, and because 
he wanted to please the army, reassure the Republi- 
cans, and give a pledge to the democracy. As Gen- 
eral de Ségur points out, the man who accepted Mu- 
rat for his brother-in-law was probably not thinking 
of ever putting on his head the crown of Charle- 
magne or of allying himself with the house of 
Austria. 

Bonaparte’s regard for the Republican opinions 
could not last long. It would have had a longer life 
if public sentiment had shown itself firmer, and there 
would have been no Emperor if the citizens had not 
transformed themselves into subjects. 

“What a pleasure for a master,” says Edgar Quinet, 
“to feel beneath his feet the proud spirit of a people 
which but just now was defying heaven and earth! 
That a general, drunk with victory, should impose 
himself upon a nation which adores him, is in the 
order of events. That armies which had sworn to 
live free or die should carry their leader on a shield, 
is a thing to be read in every history. But that a na- 
tion should not feel the yoke that is heavy on its neck ; 
that, far from suffering from it, it should accept it as 
a benefit and a deliverance ; that the men of liberty, 
Daunou, Cabanis, Grégoire, and Carnot, even La 
Fayette, should be the first to glorify their own over- 


THE LUXEMBOURG. 29 


throw; that they should run to their suicide with no 
presentiment to warn them; that evidence should 
not affect them; that the bare sword should not 
warn them, —all this is a new fact such as the world 
had not yet seen.” Reaction appeared everywhere. 
Carnot accepted the Ministry of War. The destroyer 
of the Bastille, Palloy, “the lifelong patriot,” cele- 
brated the accession of the First Consul with a hand- 
some engraved medallion. The “ Almanack of the 
Nineteenth Century” contained the following dia- 
logue between Diogenes and a man of the Revolu- 
tion : — 

What did you do to be a man? 

I made the 10th of August, the 31st of May, the 18th Fruc- 
tidor, the 30th Prairial. 

You are a mere destroyer; you are not a man. 

I have worked at three constitutions with which people have 
become disgusted. 

You are a mere fool. 

I have made more than a hundred speeches from the tribune. 

You are a mere babbler. 

I have understood how to please all parties. 

You are a mere weather-cock. 

I have proposed more than two hundred toasts to equality 
and fraternity. 

You are a mere sot. 

I cursed Robespierre the eve of his death, and spoke against 
Barras the 29th Brumaire. 

You are a mere slave. 

I invented some fine phrases about liberty. 

You are a mere rhetorician. 

I wrote a good book on morality. 

You are a mere hypocrite. 


30 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


I have had my enemies shot, who were accused of being hos- 
tile to the state. 

You are a mere monster. 

I followed orders. 

You are a hangman. 


The demagogic fury had died out, and to call a 
man a Jacobin was the deepest insult. The phrases 
which previously had aroused and inspired the masses 
now seemed like old-fashioned empty formulas. The 
following chapter of the “ Brief Revolutionary Cate- 
chism” was on every one’s lips: — 


Question. What is the aim of a revolution? 
Answer. To destroy in order to change, and to change in 
order to destroy. 
. How many elements are there in a revolution? 
. Four: deficit, poverty, audacity, and fear. 
. How many virtues? 
. Two: robbery and assassination. 
. Who profit by revolutions ? 
. The rascals and the ambitious. 
. What becomes of the people in a revolution? 
. They cut a sorry figure. 
. Why so? 
. Because whether they take part in it or not, they are 
always the victims. 
Q. In what way? 
A. In this way: all means are good for crime in attack, but 
not for virtue in defence. 
Q. How does a revolution end? 
A. By anexcess of evil, in the blindness of the leaders, and 
in the awakening of the people. 


maOpPOPOoOPHOL SO 


Aided by such a state of public opinion, Napoleon 
himself must have been astonished at the ease and 


THE LUXEMBOURG. 31 


rapidity with which his plans were accomplished. 
Nevertheless, he deemed it wise to take many 
precautions in the form, at least, if not in the sub- 
stance. He preserved some appearance of respect 
for the ideas and the institutions which he had so 
often sworn to defend. He saw that if he changed 
too suddenly, he would be exposed to the bitter re- 
proaches of his old fellow-soldiers, before whom he 
had so often protested his faith in the Republic. He 
had seen too clearly the grand and terrible side of 
the Revolution to trifle with it. Since the hour for 
throwing off his mask had not yet struck, he as- 
sumed the appearance of a sort of citizen-king, who, 
while really the master of France, continued to call 
himself simply General. He decided to install him- 
self at the Tuileries; but the Convention and the 
Committee of Public Safety had sat there, and the 
famous palace recalled both royal and revolutionary 
memories. Besides, it was called the Government 
Palace; and since the First Consul was averse to liy- 
ing there alone, he determined to bring the Third 
Consul there too, but to establish him in the Pavilion 
of Flora, and take for himself the royal apartments, 
which had been occupied by Louis XIV., Louis XV., 
and Louis XVI. 

While the First Consul was thus aspiring to the 
palaces of kings, Josephine gave no evidence of any 
desire to leave the Luxembourg, which would have 
been perfectly satisfactory as a winter residence; as 
a summer residence, she could ask for nothing better 


32 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 
than Malmaison, and she did not care for Saint 
Cloud or Compiégne or Fontainebleau. 

She was passionately fond of jewels, but she did 
not care to wear them fastened in a royal crown. 
She did not deem it necessary to change into ladies- 
in-waiting those women of the old régime whose 
society she enjoyed. Singularly enough, she would 
have been a monarchist, but on the condition that 
the monarch should not be her husband, and one 
of her greatest fears was that of seeing Bonaparte © 
become emperor or king. The Tuileries, which were 
yet full of memories of the 20th of June, the 10th 
of August, and of the Convention, seemed to her a 
fatal residence, and she felt that if she were to live 
there, she should be assuming a position that did not 
belong to her, that she would be lke a servant tak- 
ing possession of the master’s drawing-room. She 
said to herself that those who climb too high are 
exposed to giddiness, and she feared lofty mountain- 
tops because of the precipices beneath them. She 
had presentiments and scruples which made her 
reoret leaving first her little house in the rue de la 
Victoire, and then the Luxembourg. But Bonaparte 
did not trouble himself about Josephine’s uneasiness ; 
he was driven by a secret impulse, by a mysterious 
and irresistible force, to pursue his onward course 
swiftly and victoriously. Whatever height of for- 
tune he reached, it never occurred to him to say, 
This is enough. The Tuileries will not satisfy him. 
One day he will want Potsdam, the next the Escu- 
rial; one day Schoenbrunn, and another the Kremlin. 


18k 
THE FORMAL ENTRANCE INTO THE TUILERIES. 


N the 30th Pluviose, year VIII. (February 19, 

1800), Bonaparte, when he woke up in the 
Luxembourg, said to his secretary, “* Well, Bourrienne, 
here’s the day when we are going to sleep at the Tui- 
leries. You are very lucky, for you haven’t got to 
make a show of yourself; you will go your own way. 
As for me, I have got to go in a procession. It’s a 
great bore; but we must make a show and impress 
the people. The Directory was too simple, and so 
was not respected. Simplicity is all very well in the 
army; but in a large city, in a palace, the head of 
the government must attract all eyes in every pos- 
sible way.” 

The Tuileries of Catherine of Medicis, of Louis 
XIV., of Louis XV., of Louis XVI., of the Conven- 
tion, is now about to become the Tuileries of the 
First Consul. His removal to this palace was te 
show himself as master; for there is a certain relation 
between men and public buildings. Bonaparte knew 
from his instinct of power what an influence a name 


has on the imagination of the masses. Does not the 
ess 


34. THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


man who installs himself in the abode of kings substi- 
tute himself for them? From the moment when the 
First Consul occupies a palace, he will necessarily 
have a court and courtiers. Etiquette will grow up 
of itself. The friends of childhood and his college 
comrades will not dare to be too intimate with the 
head of the state. Republican familiarity will dis- 
appear before the monarchical spirit. The people 
who are accustomed to live on the favors of princes 
will feél themselves attracted to the Tuileries, as if 
Bonaparte were a Bourbon. The manners, the ideas, 
the language of royalty, will gradually reappear. 

At one o’clock in the afternoon all Paris was astir; 
every one wanted to see the procession starting from 
the Luxembourg for the Tuileries. Madame Bona- 
parte had already gone there; since she possessed 
no claims to royal honors, she had come modestly 
with her daughter Hortense and with her sister- 
in-law, Madame Murat, and the three stationed them- 
selves, not on the balcony of the Pavilion of the 
Clock, which would have been too formal, but at 
the windows of the apartment of Consul Lebrun, in 
the Pavilion of Flora. Then the procession arrived 
with the regiments commanded by Lannes, Murat, 
and Bessiéres. The three Consuls were in a carriage 
drawn by six white horses presented to General 
Bonaparte by the Emperor of Germany after the 
peace of Campo Formio. The First Consul was on 
the back seat, with Cambacérés at his left and Le- 
brun opposite. Then followed the Council of State 


ENTRANCE INTO THE TUILERIES. 35 


and the senators, most of them in cabs with the 
numbers hidden by pieces of paper. The impressive 
thing in the procession was the fineness of the troops, 
—three thousand picked soldiers, all veterans. The 
whole Carrousel was filled by a dense crowd who 
shouted wildly, “ Long live the First Consul; long 
live Bonaparte!”? Everywhere on the way people 
were saying, ‘“ How young he is! What a fine head! 
What a fine face! The Emperor of Germany gave 
him those white horses, and he gave him his sabre 
too. Do you see Josephine? She has brought him 
good luck.” i 

Patriotic joy shone on every face. The people, 
the workmen, the poorer classes, were contented. All 
the social classes, indeed, were united in one com- 
mon thought. Windows were bought at high prices 
from which to view this grand spectacle, this review 
which would become a matter of history. What 
pretty women! what rich dresses! Napoleon was 
not sincere when he told Bourrienne in the morning 
that he did not care for this pomp and show. His 
entrance into the Tuileries would be one of the finest 
days of his life, full as it was of triumphs. There 
was a keen joy in hearing the shouts of the populace 
mingling with those of the troops, and real intoxica- 
tion in all this military display, in the blare of the 
trumpets, and the roar of the drums. Starting from 
nothing, to be everything, what a dream! and to get 
to the topmost pinnacle at thirty years of age, what 
a wonder it is! 


36 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


The Consular Guard formed a line on both sides from 
the entrance into the Carrousel to the door of the Tui- 
leries. There was a certain contrast between this imi- 
tation of royalty and the inscription which still stood 
there, on the guard-house to the right of the middle 
grating: “ August 10, 1792, Royalty was abolished 
in France, never to reappear.” As they looked at 
this inscription, many of the soldiers broke out into 
denunciation of royalty, with no notion that at this 
moment they were bringing it back. When they 
had got into the Tuileries, the troops drew up in 
order of battle. The Consuls’ carriage passed the 
gateway and stopped. Bonaparte got out quickly and 
vaulted on the horse which was brought up for him, 
while Cambacérés and Lebrun made their way slowly 
to the reception rooms. 

He was now in his element, and had become really 
himself in the presence of the troops, ef the men to 
whom he owed everything. For if he had entered 
the Tuileries, it was the soldiers who had led him 
there; and he acknowledged himself their debtor, 
for it was through them that he had become all- 
powerful. Hence he was glad to find himself among 
his companions in arms, those brave men whose sun- 
burnt faces recalled many victories. He was happy 
to see the old bullet-riddled flags, black with powder, 
and in rags, which were real treasures, holy talis- 
mans. Was there one of the three thousand soldiers 
there who would not have given his life to defend 
these glorious insignia? The marching past began, 


ENTRANCE INTO THE TUILERIES. 37 
and Bonaparte took his place before the Pavilion 
of the Clock, with Murat at his right and Lannes 
at his left. The 43d half-brigade advanced, and the 
color-bearer saluted the First Consul with the flag 
which was a mere staff with a few shreds of bunting 
full of bullet-holes. Bonaparte regarded it with re- 
spect and emotion, taking off his hat and returning 
the salute. The flags of the 80th and 96th were in 
the same state. When they passed, Bonaparte saluted 
them too, and his emotion appeared to increase. All 
this time his mother was weeping with joy. 

When the review was over, the First Consul de- 
scended from his horse, entered the Pavilion of the 
Clock, and ascended briskly the staircase of the 
king’s palace. The next day there was to be read 
in the Moniteur: “30 Pluviose, Year VIII. The 
Government installed itself in its Palace to-day ; the 
Councillors and Secretaries of State, the Secretary 
General, the Ministers and the Consuls, all in full 
dress, drove to the Tuileries, preceded by a band, 
and accompanied by the staff of the 17th Division. 
The First Consul, alighting from his carriage, 
mounted his horse, and passed by the lines of the 
different bodies of troops drawn up in the courtyard. 
Later, in one of the halls of the Palace, the Minister 
of the Interior presented to the Consuls the members 
of the governing boards of Paris. This ceremony 
was accomplished with perfect order. The public 
testified its satisfaction by warm applause: hope and 
joy shone on every face.” 


38 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Bonaparte then installed himself in the chamber of 
Louis XIV., the Sunlike King; Josephine had the 
room of Marie Antoinette. Who, a few years ear- 
lier, could have foreseen so strange a thing? When 
the future conqueror of Arcola, obscure in, lost in 
the crowd, looked in anger at the invading rabble 
of the 20th of June and the 10th of August, could 
he have thought that he would so soon take the place 
at the Tuileries of the sovereign whose humiliations 
so moved him ? 

The next morning, on entering Bonaparte’s room, 
Bourrienne said to him: “ Well, general, here you 
are at last, without difficulty, with the applause of 
the people. Do you remember what you said to me 
two years ago in the rue Sainte Anne? ‘I could 
make myself king, but it’s not yet time.’” “Yes, 
that is true; but do you know we have done a good 
many things since then? On the whole, I am per- 
fectly satisfied; yesterday went off very well. Do 
you think that all those people who came to toady 
me are sincere? Of course not; but the joy of the 
people was genuine. The people are right. And 
then, you can consult the real thermometer of public 
opinion. Look at the stocks. So I can let the Jaco- 
bins grumble; but they mustn’t grumble too loud.” 

Then the First Consul dressed and went to stroll 
in the Gallery of Diana. He looked at the busts 
which had been placed there by his orders, — Demos- 
thenes, Alexander, Hannibal, Scipio, Brutus, Cicero, 
Cato, Cesar, Gustavus Adolphus, Turenne, Condé, 


ENTRANCE INTO THE TUILERIES. 39 


Duguay-Trouin, Marlborough, Prince Eugene, Mar- 
shal Saxe, Washington, Frederick the Great, Mira- 
beau, and four generals of the Republic who had been 
killed in battle, Dugommier, Dampierre, Marceau, 
and Joubert. Then he passed through the halls, 
which were full of memories of the youth of Louis 
XIV., of the childhood of Louis XV., of the agonies 
of the martyred king and queen, of the bloody rule 
of Robespierre. In the Pavilion of Flora is the 
room where the terrible Committee of Public Safety 
used to sit. At the other end of the Gallery of 
Diana is the Council Hall of the Ministry, where 
were held all the important meetings during the 
minority of Louis XV., and in the last hours of the 
monarchy. There is the bed-chamber, a showy room, 
where the Sunlike King used to appear in such 
majesty, and where the Imperial throne was soon 
to be raised. It was in the next room that, on 
the 20th of June, the rioters put the red cap on the 
head of Louis XVI. After that is the large room, 
which under the king used to be called the Hall of 
the Hundred Swiss, where, at the time of the Con- 
vention, Robespierre appeared in triumph at the fes- 
tival of the Supreme Being. In the future this is 
to be the Hall of the Marshals. As he passed these 
rooms, Bonaparte, who was deeply impressed, said to 
Bourrienne: “ Getting into the Tuileries isn’t every- 
thing: the thing is to stay here. Who is there who 
hasn’t lived in the palace? Thieves, and members 
of the National Convention. Do yousee? There’s 


40 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


your brother’s house. It’s from there that I saw 
them besiege the Tuileries, and carry the good Louis 
XVI. away. But don’t be uneasy. Let them try it.” 

The same day Bonaparte had the Liberty Trees, 
which had been planted in the courtyard of the 
Tuileries, cut down. Liberty was itself disappear- 
ing, and nothing really takes its place, not even 


glory. 


IIT. 


THE TUILERIES AT THE BEGINNING OF THE CON- 
SULATE. 


HE First Consul installed himself at the Tuile- 
ries, on the first floor in that part which, in the 

time of Louis XIV., had been called His Majesty’s 
winter apartment. The windows looked upon the 
garden. The working-room was of moderate size 
and lit by but one window. ‘This room, by the side 
of which there was a closet full of maps, opened into 
a large bedroom, containing a gorgeous bed, which 
was not that of Louis XVI. “I must not forget to 
say,’ Bourrienne tells us, “that the First Consul 
slept there very seldom; for he troubled himself very 
little about his quarters, and concerned himself about 
external luxury only out of calculation, regarding it 
as a means of impressing people. To speak plainly, 
Bonaparte, at the Luxembourg, at Malmaison, and 
during the first part of his stay at the Tuileries, occu- 
pied the same room with his wife.” Every evening 
he went down a little staircase to Josephine’s apart- 
ment below, on the ground floor. She had taken 


the apartment of Marie Antoinette, and had fitted 
41 


492 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


it up very simply. By the side of her dressing-room 
were the rooms of her daughter Hortense, consisting 
of a bed-chamber and a little sitting-room. 

As yet there was no thought of appointing cham- 
berlains, equerries, and ladies-in-waiting. Public 
opinion was not prepared for them, and nothing more 
was demanded than could be performed by State- 
counsellor Bénezech, who was a sort of master of 
ceremonies in charge of the domestic administration 
of the palace, and in fact really managed the court. 
On the occasion of the First Consul’s solemn entry 
into the Tuileries, Josephine had modestly stationed 
herself at a window of the Pavilion of Flora, but 
a few days later, the 2d Ventose, when her husband 
was receiving the ambassadors of Spain and Rome, 
the ministers of Prussia, Denmark, Sweden, Baden, 
and Hesse-Cassel, and the ambassadors of the Cisal- 
pine, Batavian, Swiss, and Ligurian Republics, she 
had all the diplomats presented to her, and held a 
levee very much like a queen. It was Bénezech 
who made the presentations. 

This return to the old ways did not fail to dis- 
please those who still nourished republican senti- 
ments. Thibaudeau, the author of *“ Memoirs on 
the Consulate,” says about this: “So high was the 
respect for the civil magistracies, and so strong the 
hostility to court etiquette, that the Counsellors of 
State were scandalized at seeing a former Minister 
of the Interior, one of their colleagues, with an 
usher’s rod in his hand, playing the part of master 


THE TUILERIES. 43 


of ceremonies, and even of head butler of the First 
Consul. There were as yet no titled servants, called 
chamberlains; the aides-de-camp took charge of what 
would have been their duties, but that had too much 
the air of the camp. It was clear that the Tuileries 
required a regular court and fixed etiquette, just as 
a temple requires priests and service. A court in 
process of formation was a new sight for most of the 
spectators as well as for the courtiers themselves.” 
At first it was not very easy to make up the society 
of the Tuileries. The “ Memorial of Saint Helena” 
describes the First Consul’s difficulties. Since he 
had spent the last few years in the army, he knew 
very few people, and he was continually obliged to 
consult Consul Lebrun about men and things. The 
Republicans, and especially the generals, would have 
been horrified if he had received people who belonged 
to the old régime, royalists, émigrés. All these did 
not begin at once to mount the grand staircase of 
the Tuileries, familiar as they grew with it later. 
Under the pretence of discriminating between the 
wife and the husband, they began by appearing only 
on the ground floor, in Josephine’s apartments, visit- 
ing her in the morning. The bankers and business 
men who set the tone under the Directory, were 
anxious to gather about Bonaparte; but the First 
Consul, who disliked doubtful characters, repelled 
their advances with some severity. Their wives were 
pretty, amiable, and charming, but could not fasci- 
nate him, and he told Josephine not to admit them 


44 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


to the Tuileries. It was he who said in regard to 
the contractors and speculators who were very influ- 
ential at the Luxembourg in the time of Barras: 
“One of the ways in which I most furthered the 
reaction of society towards the condition and habits 
of the past was by driving all this false brilliancy 
back into the crowd; I never wanted to raise one 
of these men to honor, for of all forms of aristocracy 
that seemed to me the worst.” 

Since the nobility and the bankers were thus ex- 
cluded, the First Consul could at first have no other 
society than that of officials, civil and military, and 
their wives. “ At first,” he says in his “ Memorial 
of Saint Helena,” “everything for a while was like 
a magic-lantern, very mixed and forever changing. 
The combination soon acquired a color, a tone of its 
own, and was by no means without its good side. At 
Moscow, the Viceroy (Prince Eugene) found some 
letters of the Princess Dolgorouki, who had been 
in Paris at that time. She spoke very well of the 
Tuileries; she said it was not exactly a court, but 
that on the other hand it was not a camp; that the 
etiquette and the ways were quite new; that the First 
Consul did not carry his hat under his arm, or wear 
a rapier, to be sure, but that he was not a rough 
soldier.” The ladies who attended these receptions 
were, for the most part, young, timid, and without 
experience of the world; but Madame Bonaparte set 
them at their ease by her amiable grace and kind- 
ness, and the young women who at first were intimi- 


THE TUILERIES. 45 


dated by the growing etiquette of a palace, and 
especially by the rank and glory of the First Consul, 
gradually acquired familiarity with the customs of 
good society, and were wise enough to take Josephine 
fora model. At that time Madame Bonaparte used 
to give breakfasts from which men were rigorously 
excluded. 

“Jn my opinion,” said the Duchess of Abrantés, 
“it was a delightful custom, that of inviting to such 
entertainments women who were still too timid to be 
agreeable in a drawing-room in the presence of men 
so much their superiors as to alarm them. By talk- 
ing at these informal breakfasts about the fashions, 
the new plays, the little commonplaces of society, the 
young women acquired courage, and ceased to be 
mere wallflowers in the drawing-room of the First 
Consul, when he sought distraction there. Madame 
Bonaparte did the honors of the breakfast with 
charming grace. Generally there were about half-a- 
dozen of us, and all, with the exception of our hostess, 
of about the same age.” 

Let us once more consult the Duchess of Abrantés, 
whose graceful, womanly Memoirs, and “ History of 
the Paris Drawing-rooms,” with its curious and 
amusing details, give a most vivid and attractive 
picture of this period. In the chapter called 
“Madame Bonaparte’s Drawing-room,” she describes 
all the women who were intimately allied with Jo- 
sephine in 1800 and 1801. There was Madame de 
La Rochefoucauld, ‘a little hunchback, a very kind 


46 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


? 


woman, although witty,” who was related to the 
family of Beauharnais ; then Madame de La Valette, 
“sweet, good, always pretty, in spite of the small- 
pox, and of the many who found her too handsome 
notwithstanding her misfortune.” And Madame de 
Lameth, “round as a ball and bearded, — two unat- 
tractive things in a woman, but good and witty, — two 
very attractive qualities”; then Madame de Lauriston, 
‘kind to every one and generally popular”; Madame 
de Rémusat, ‘a superior woman and very charming 
to those who understood her”; Madame de Talhonet, 
‘“‘who remembered too well that she had been pretty, 
and forgot that she was so no longer”; and Madame 
dV Harville, “systematically impolite, and only polite 
by accident.” 

The intimate friends of Madame Bonaparte used 
to meet in the drawing-room on the ground floor, 
and the official visitors used to appear on the first 
flight, in the grand reception rooms. But there 
were many different types, curious combinations, and 
striking contrasts even in the society downstairs. 
All opinions met there. An émigré just a few days 
returned would sit by the side of a former member 
of the Convention, who a few years earlier had con- 
demned him to death; a Republican general would 
elbow a member of the Vendean army; but, by her 
exquisite tact, Josephine was able to enforce, if not 
peace, at least a truce between men whose antece- 
dents seemed to make them irreconcilable enemies, 
and from the beginning of the Consulate she worked 


THE TUILERIES. 47 


more energetically than any one to bring about the 
reconciliation and fusion which her husband desired. 
The great receptions of the first floor were called 
mobs by those who had admission to the ground floor. 
Every decade, or week of ten days, there was served, 
in the Gallery of Diana, a dinner of two hundred 
plates. The senators and the generals were received 
on the second day of the decade; the members of the 
‘Legislature, on the fourth day; the Tribunes and the 
members of the Court of Appeal, on the sixth day. 
The question of a consulate for life, or of making 
the position hereditary, had not yet arisen. The 
First Consul, who was not called the President of the 
Republic, was, according to the constitution, merely 
a temporary magistrate, whose powers were limited 
to a period of ten years, and who shared the govern- 
ment with two colleagues, called, like him, consuls. 
But if we examine the state of affairs, what is 
Cambacérés, what is Lebrun, in comparison with the 
sun of which they are the satellites? In all the 
receptions and important functions Bonaparte is the 
only one who is looked at; everywhere and always, 
as the poet said later. Any one who wishes to get 
an idea of this man’s ascendancy has only to consider 
what took place every fifth day at noon in the court- 
yard. It was the favorite spectacle of the Parisians, 
and the great attraction for the provincials and for- 
eigners who happened to be in Paris. In France 
nothing produces so strong an impression as the sight 
of the warriors who flatter its national pride and its 


48 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


warlike instincts. At the sight of such soldiers the 
whole people grew enthusiastic, and felt themselves 
capable of unheard-of prodigies. It seemed as if they 
could defy all Europe, and they were tempted to cry 
out, like their ancestors, the Gauls, “ There is only 
one thing I fear: that the heavens will fall.’ They 
said to themselves, “ We are a great nation.” 

All the regiments came in turn to Paris to take 
part in the reviews on every fifth day of the decade 
before the First Consul. They dazzled the capital, 
and the capital dazzled them. Parisians and soldiers 
got on very well together, and after the review re- 
tained very pleasant memories of each other. Thi- 
baudeau shows us Bonaparte, one moment on foot, 
the next on horseback, going through the ranks to 
make acquaintance with the officers and soldiers, and 
to let them learn to know hin, interesting himself in 
the pettiest details of their equipment, their arma- 
ment, and drill, busying himself indefatigably with 
everything that concerned the welfare of his troops, 
welcoming his former companions in Italy, and ad- 
dressing them with some flattering speech that drove 
them wild with enthusiasm. ‘It was interesting to 
see,’ says Madame de Rémusat, ** how well he under- 
stood how to talk with the soldiers, how he would 
ask one soldier after another about his campaigns or 
his wounds. ... I have heard Madame Bonaparte 
say that he was accustomed to study every evening, 
when he was going to bed, the army lists. He would 
sleep on the names of the corps, and on those of some 


THE TUILERIES. 49 


of the men who composed the corps, retaining them 
in a corner of his memory; and in this way he had 
the wonderful gift of recognizing the soldiers and of 
giving them the pleasure of being picked out by their 
commander. In talking with the men he assumed 
a tone of good-fellowship which delighted them; he 
addressed each one with thou, and recalled the feats 
of arms they had performed together.” 

This was the time when, preserving some of the 
republican familiarity, he wrote to the non-commis- 
sioned officer, Sergeant Léon Aune of the Grenadiers, 
the following letter: “I have received your letter, 
my dear comrade; you don’t need to tell me what 
you have done; I know very well you are one of 
the bravest grenadiers in the army since the death of 
Benezeth. You received one of the hundred sabres 
of honor which I had distributed. All the soldiers 
of your corps agreed that you were the one who de- 
served it most. J am very anxious to see you again. 
The Minister of War sends you an order to come to 
Paris.” Never, except perhaps among the members 
of Cesar’s legions, has there been seen such a fanat- 
ical love of military life. Second leutenants would 
not have given up their epaulettes for millions. 
Every officer, every soldier, was proud of his uni- 
form, of his regiment, of his colors. No one has 
ever understood better than Bonaparte how to impress 
the imagination of the soldier. He controlled him 
with a word, with a glance, and appeared to him like 
a supernatural being, like a demi-god. Even after 


50 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


his defeats he preserved his authority; what must it 
have been when his comrades who had always seen 
him victorious thought him always invincible? Each 
one of the fifth day reviews was a new apotheosis for 
him. “If it happened to rain, or if the day was 
cloudy,” says Thibaudeau, an eye-witness, “it often 
happened that at the moment Bonaparte appeared 
the rain stopped, the clouds broke, and the sun shone 
out. The multitude, always greedy of miracles, and 
the courtiers, always profuse in flattery, used to cry 
out, ‘ The First Consul controls the elements !’”’ 
The wife of General Junot, afterwards the Duchess 
of Abrantés, describes one of these reviews which 
ereatly delighted her. A little before noon, Jose- 
phine, her daughter, Hortense de Beauharnais, her 
sisters-in-law, a number of pretty women, of officials, 
of distinguished strangers, appeared at the palace 
windows. After the parade, sixteen magnificent 
horses, the gift of the King of Spain, were to be 
presented to the First Consul. The officers walked 
up and down among the soldiers, speaking to them 
from time to time, in a low voice, to correct a faulty 
position or some trifle in their dress. Every one was 
most zealous, for the First Consul must be satisfied. 
The trumpets sounded, the drums beat, and Bona- 
parte appeared on his white horse, Désiré. His sol- 
diers gazed at him with an expression which seemed 
to say, “ Yes, we will die that France may be great, 
and its name the first in the world. Whither shall 
we go? We are ready.” He stopped beneath the 


THE TUILERIES. 51 


window at which Madame Junot happened to be with 
some ladies, and turning to a young drummer who 
seemed to be about sixteen or seventeen years old, he 
said, “So, my boy, it was you who beat the charge at 
Ziirich with a bullet through your right arm?” The 
little drummer blushed, and answered, “ Yes, Gen- 
eral.” ‘And it’s you, too, who showed great pres- 
ence of mind at Weser?” The boy blushed more 
deeply, and answered in a lower voice, “ Yes, Gen- 
eral.” ‘“ Well, I ought to pay the country’s debt. 
You shall receive, not a drumstick of honor, but a 
sabre of honor. I appoint you a non-commissioned 
officer in the Consular Guard. Go on as well as you 
have begun, and I shall take care of you.” Then 
the First Consul, with a pleasant smile, touched his 
hat to the ladies, who had been listening to him. The 
little drummer was as pale as death with emotion, 
but his face is eloquent. He may have grown pale 
before Bonaparte, but he would not turn pale before 
the enemy. 


Ve 
PARISIAN SOCIETY IN THE YEAR VII. 


ARIS, in 1800, knew only two passions, — glory 

and pleasure. The once magic word, liberty, 
was now scarcely ever on men’s lips, except as a 
matter of habit. The great city, always fickle in 
its tastes and emotions, was now thoroughly weary 
of politics, of parliamentary disputes, of clubs, news- 
papers, and outbreaks, and had become totally indif- 
ferent to all these things which a short time previous 
used to arouse it to fury. It scarcely remembered 
that it had been torn by a revolution. Edgar Quinet 
has described most admirably the state of feeling at 
the beginning of the Consulate, and he is borne out 
by all the contemporary authorities. ‘ When men,” 
he says, “after a heroic effort, are tired of the duties 
of freedom, and suddenly abandon the control of 
themselves, they experience a singular sensation of 
relief. There are many instances of this in anti- 
quity. After centuries of civil war, the Romans felt 
a profound peace, a happy satisfaction, in laying their 
conscience in the hands of a master. The French 


felt something of the sort after the events of the 
52 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN THE YEAR VIII. 58 


18th Brumaire, which relieved them of the care of 
their own destinies. Doubtless this period is, except 
for the lack of dignity, one of the happiest in the 
memory of man.” People began to say that, after 
all, the guillotine was not ornamental in a public 
square, and that a well-dressed, well-drilled regiment 
was far superior to a rabble of men with pikes; that, 
as its name implies, the Reign of Terror is the most 
disagreeable and alarming of systems of government; 
that Paris will never be a really austere city; that a 
good dinner is better than the black broth of Sparta ; 
that a pretty woman who chats is far preferable to 
a speech-making tribune; people began to see some 
merit in the good old times; they acknowledged that 
social entertainments, life in the drawing-room, in 
the castles, that courtesy, gallantry, French gayety, 
songs, theatres, balls, and all the amusements which 
for centuries had been the joy and pride of the great 
capital were, after all, really indispensable. The re- 
action was as marked as the Revolution had been; 
and it was just because Madame Bonaparte was a 
woman of the old régime that she so well pleased 
Parisian society, which asked nothing better than to 
go back to the customs and pleasures of the past. 
The official world set the fashion of festivity, and 
the winter was tolerably gay. Especially successful 
were the balls of Lucien Bonaparte, who occupied 
the sumptuous Brissac mansion, as Minister of the 
Interior. He was then in love with the fashionable 
beauty, Madame Récamier, the most charming woman 


54 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


in Paris. Since her first name was Juliette, he ex- 
pressed his devotion under the pseudonym of Romeo: 
“Romeo writes to you, Juliette; if you should refuse 
to read him, you would be more cruel than our rela- 
tives, who have just become reconciled. ... O Juli- 
ette! life without love is only along sleep. The love- 
liest of women ought to be tender-hearted. Happy 
the man who shall become the friend of your heart!” 
It seems that Madame Récamier did not let herself 
be moved by Lucien, although she was much flattered 
by his attentions. Her husband, moreover, advised 
her to be gentle with the brother of the First Consul. 
So Madame Récamier was one of the principal orna- 
ments of the balls given by the Minister of the Inte- 
rior. The author of the delightful book, “ Recollec- 
tions of Madame Récamier,” tells us that she produced 
a very great effect at a dinner, followed by a concert, 
which Lucien gave to his brother, General Bonaparte. 
‘¢She was dressed in white satin, and wore a neck- 
lace and bracelets of pearls, as if she took a certain 
satisfaction in covering herself with things conspicu- 
ous for their whiteness, in order to efface them by 
the beauty of her complexion.” Fouché, the member 
of the Convention, afterwards the Duke of Otranto, 
came behind the chair in which she sat, and said to 
her in a low tone, “The First Consul finds you charm- 
ing.” 

At that moment Napoleon was holding the hand 
of one of Lucien’s daughters, a little girl of not more 
than four, and in talking he thought no more about 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN THE YEAR VIII. DD 


the child, who grew tired of her captivity and began 
tocry. “Oh! you poor little thing,” said the First 
Consul, with genuine pity; “I had forgotten you.” 
Lucien had gone up to Madame Récamier, and Napo- 
leon, who knew all about his brother’s devotion, said 
quite loud, “I should like to go to Clichy myself.” 
(Clichy was where Madame Récamier lived.) Din- 
ner was announced, and Napoleon went in first with- 
out offering his arm to any one of the ladies. He 
placed his mother on his right, and the place on his 
left remained empty, no one daring to take it. Then 
he turned towards the guests who were still standing, 
and said suddenly to Garat, the singer, “ Well, Garat, 
sit down here.” At the same moment Cambacérés 
took the place next to Madame Récamier, and Napo- 
leon called out, “Ah, citizen Consul, next to the 
handsomest woman!” After dinner he asked Mad- 
ame Récamier, “ Why didn’t you sit next to me?” 
“T should not have dared,” she replied. He an- 
swered, “ It was your place.” 

Madame Méchin, Madame Régnault de Saint-Jean- 
d’Angély, and Madame Visconti shone, even by the 
side of Madame Récamier, at the balls of the Minis- 
ter of the Interior. The First Consul’s three sisters 
were like princesses on those occasions. Josephine, 
in her seat at the end of the gallery, already assumed 
the bearing of a sovereign. The women all rose when 
she entered the ball-room and when she left. Besides 
the entertainments of official society, there were those 
of the great bankers, Messrs. Perregaux, Séguin, 


56 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Hainguerlot, Récamier, who renewed the traditions 
of the farmers-general. The Faubourg Saint Germain 
was not yet reconstituted, and the aristocracy gave 
no entertainments, but they amused themselves never- 
theless; there were Garat’s concerts, the theatre, 
dinners, Tivoli, Frascati, and the Hanoverian Pavil- 
ion. All classes of society were eager for pleasure, 
and dancing was especially the rage. “Next to 
money, says a contemporary pamphlet, “the dance 
has become the idol of the Parisians. With small 
and great, with rich and poor, it has become a univer- 
sal passion. ‘There is dancing at the Carmes, where 
the crowds are enormous; at the Jesuits’ College; at 
the Seminary of Saint Sulpice; at the Filles Sainte 
Marie; in three or four churches; at Ruggieri’s, 
Lucquet’s, Manduit’s, Wentzel’s; at the Thelusson 
mansion.” 

The reopening of the Opera balls was the great 
attraction of the Carnival in 1800. For ten years the 
Parisians had been deprived of this favorite pleasure. 
In a period of furious hatred and of general slaughter, 
a masked ball would have been an impossibility. 
Under the rule of Robespierre the spies would not 
have respected the secrecy and security of a mask. 
The knife of the guillotine would have been the 
punishment of a witticism. And after the Terror, men 
were still so excited that those who wore a mask 
would have been exposed to the bitterest recrimina- 
tions and the most violent abuse. Bonaparte, who 
was dreaming of the triumph of a policy of concilia- 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN THE YEAR VIII. 57 


tion and fusion, thought that under his government 
the Opera balls had become once more possible, and 
would even further the work of appeasement which 
was part of his plan. He was not mistaken: the re- 
opening of the Opera balls seemed to him an event of 
real social importance. Hence it was that he had 
two long articles, which to-day are a real historical 
curiosity, inserted on the first page of the Moniteur 
Universel, in the numbers of the 8th and 9th of Ven- 
tose, year VIII. (February 26 and 27,1800). “The 
Opera House is open,” it is stated in the first of these 
articles, “it is crowded; people arrive in dense crowds; 
five or six thousand persons are massed in a space too 
small to hold them. Thousands of different disguises, 
thousands of elegant, odd, or amusing costumes, call 
forth jests and merry-making; satire has free scope, 
and nothing is heard but laughter; all faces are lit 
with joy and confidence ; a leader of the riding-school, 
without a mask, elbows a returned exile.” The offi- 
cial sheet, which saw in this ball a sign that the vari- 
ous parties were laying down their arms, adds with 
keen satisfaction: “It is a curious and touching pic- 
ture, less interesting for the times it recalls than for 
those it foretells. It shows that the revolutionary 
leaven has ceased to ferment; that Frenchmen, tired 
of hatred and fear, now only care to join hands and 
forgive one another.” 

Enthusiastic over these happy results, the Moniteur 
thus apostrophized the foes of the new régime: “ Pu- 
pils of Chaumette and Marat, go and count the receipts 


58 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


at the opera; consider that the twenty-five or thirty 
thousand francs, paid in at the door, will carry com- 
fort and happiness in a hundred families of actors or 
workmen connected with this theatre; calculate how 
much the shop-keepers of Paris have made out of 
those expensive costumes, those disguises hired for 
large sums (it is estimated that dominoes were let 
for twenty-five, thirty-six, and as much as forty-eight 
frances), out of the carriages which were insufficient 
in number to accommodate those who sought them.” 
Of course the Moniteur took pains to give Bonaparte 
credit for all this: ‘When some of the persons of 
the First Consul’s family were seen at this entertain- 
ment, it was supposed that he had himself come to 
look from a grated box upon the scene, which might 
well have given him the sensation of noble vanity. 
Every one who thought that he saw him would have 
had a chance to say, ‘ Nobis haec otia fecit.’”’; 

The other article, of the 9th of Ventose, expressed 
the same satisfaction, although there are some re- 
serves in regard to the unfamiliarity of some Pari- 
sians with masked balls: “These scenes of coquetry 
have their rules which ought to be known, and a lan- 
guage of their own, which ought to be every one’s 
possession, but it must be said that among the Pari- 
sians of the present day, some have never known the 
manners of a masquerade, and others have forgotten 
them. A mask, moreover, implies a réle; a role pre- 
supposes an actor, and not every one is an actor, and 
consequently among the crowd of maskers many 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN THE YEAR VIII. 59 


seemed to have forgotten their names and their char- 
acters. Wesawa good many undignified Spaniards, 
ungraceful dancing-girls, commonplace Orientals ; we 
saw discreet nuns, silent lawyers, solemn clowns, and 
statue-like Harlequins.” 

The Moniteur consoled itself with the hope of 
speedy improvement: “ This is a misfortune,” it says ; 
“but confiding in the native intelligence of the happy 
Parisians, we feel sure that they will soon find once 
more the talents required by these new sports: there 
is no occasion for uneasiness.” 

Women of the highest society went in great num- 
bers to the Opera balls. They wore masks and domi- 
noes, and amused themselves with the men of their 
acquaintance, who went in dress suits, without masks. 
Madame Récamier, who was very timid when her 
face was visible, became lively and sportive behind a 
domino. Madame de Staél, on the other hand, as 
soon as she was masked, lost her usual high spirits 
and eloquence. In Paris, nothing was talked about 
but the Opera balls which delighted every one. The 
young were delighted to see an entertainment which 
they had so often heard warmly spoken of, while 
their elders hoped in the lamplight to go back ten 
years, and liked to fancy that the horrors of the 
Revolution were only a bad dream which vanished 
at the sound of the joyous music. 

While Paris was thus happy in feeling itself still 
frivolous, and was trying to make up for time lost 
in the way of distractions and pleasures, the émigrés 


60 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


who were compelled to conceal themselves under 
false names, began to make their way back to the 
city where so many different things had happened 
since their departure. It was a great joy to them to 
see once more their native soil; but there was much 
sadness mingled with it. Chateaubriand has de- 
scribed his return. It was one Sunday, at about 
three in the afternoon, that the future author of the 
“Genius of Christianity” entered Paris on foot by 
the gate of the Btoile, after an absence of eight years. 
Poor and obscure, no one recognized him. “ We 
have now no idea,” he says, ‘of the impression that 
the excesses of the Revolution made upon the minds 
of men throughout Europe, and especially upon those 
away from France during the Terror. It seemed to 
me as if I were actually about to descend into hell.” 
To his great surprise, he heard violins, horns, clari- 
onets, and drums. As he passed down the Champs 
Elysées, he saw little halls where men and women 
were dancing. The Place Louis XV. seemed to him 
an accursed spot: “It was dilapidated, as melancholy 
and deserted as an old amphitheatre.” Before the 
place where stood the scaffold of Louis XVI. he was 
overcome by profound emotion. ‘I was afraid,” he 
says, “of stepping in the blood of which no trace 
was left. ... I imagined that I saw my brother 
and my sister-in-law, with their hands bound, near 
the bloody instrument. ... In spite of the merri- 
ment of the streets, the church-towers were dumb; 
Iseemed to have got back on some day of great 
solemnity, like Good Friday.” 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN THE YEAR Vir 61 


In her Memoirs, Madame de Genlis has also well 
described her return, her emotion when she crossed 
the frontier and entered into France, when she heard 
the people speaking French, when she drew near Paris 
and made out from a distance the towers of Notre 
Dame, when she found how the city had changed 
during her absence. Everything seemed novel; she 
was like a foreigner whose curiosity stops her at 
every step. The names of the streets were changed. 
Cabs passed her which she recognized as confiscated 
carriages of her friends. She entered a little second- 
hand shop where were some twenty portraits. “I 
recognized them all, and my eyes filled with tears as 
I thought that three-quarters of the nobles they rep- 
resented had been guillotined, and that the others, 
robbed of every penny and exiled, were perhaps still 
wandering in foreign lands.” 

What consoled Madame de Genlis for so many 
sorrows was the military glory of France. “I was 
glad to meet the son of one of my gamekeepers, now 
a captain, who had served in our successful armies 
with great distinction. His fine bearing and his mar- 
tial air reminded me of what La Rochefoucauld had 
said: ‘ Vulgarity is never lost at court; it always is 


9 99 


in the army. The émigrés who returned soon 
grew accustomed to the new régime. They used to 
talk calmly with the murderers of their relatives. 
Jacobins and the men of Coblenz used to meet every 
day in the theatres, in the promenades, and a sort of 


calm succeeded the paroxysm of wrath and hatred. 


62 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


As Chateaubriand said, “ Bonaparte put the Brutuses 
and Scevolas into the police, and set about adorning — 
them with ribands, and degrading them with titles, 
compelling them to betray their opinions and to dis- 
honor their crimes. Day by day there went on the 
metamorphosis of the tyranny of all into the tyranny 
of a single man.” 


Ve 
THE TWO NATIONAL FESTIVALS. 


HE consular government was very strong in 
1800, and yet it could not have survived a de- 
feat ; the baptism of victory was absolutely necessary 
toitsexistence. If the First Consul had been beaten 
at Marengo, all the recent framework of bis power 
and glory would have fallen like a house of cards. 
He was well aware of this, and before he started for 
the second Italian campaign he said that he was 
staking everything for everything. In spite of an 
apparent truce the parties had not disarmed, and they 
awaited with impatience the course of events on the 
other side of the Alps. Royalists, Jacobins, bankers, 
speculators, wondered most anxiously what would be 
the result of Bonaparte’s new challenge to fortune. 
His political foes pictured him already beaten, over- 
thrown, perhaps slain, and formed a thousand plans, 
as if the succession were already open. All this 
agitation was of brief duration. Bonaparte left Paris 
May 6, 1800; he returned July 2. In less than two 
months he had accomplished great things. 


As was usual with him, the conqueror had the gift 
63 


64 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


of setting his victories before the public. Everything 
was arranged for arousing the Parisians, the modern 
Athenians, for impressing their imagination. Gen- 
eral de Ségur puts it thus: “ We are all young, sol- 
diers and generals. A third of our number were fresh 
recruits. The oldest had had but eight years’ expe- 
rience. A threefold spring,— that of the year, of 
our life, of glory, — the rivalry within us and about us, 
inspired us.” This imitation of Hannibal, the cross- 
ing of the Alps, a bold undertaking, an army defiling 
man by man, one by one, by the goat-paths, over the 
eternal snows; the artillery taken to pieces; the 
cannon dragged by ropes; every soldier, every horse, 
in danger of death at the least misstep; the Saint 
Bernard, with its monks and dogs; the avalanches, 
the precipices ; the sudden entrance into the plains 
of Italy; the day of Marengo, so hotly contested; the 
heroic and touching death of the brave Desaix ; Italy 
won back in a campaign of a few days, — this new 
heroic history worthy of antiquity was the general 
subject of conversation, and aroused every one’s 
enthusiasm. Never, at any period of his life, was 
Napoleon so popular, and yet he was not sated with 
his glory. On his way to Paris, through Burgundy, 
he said to Bourrienne, “ Well, a few grand deeds like 
this campaign, and I may be known to posterity.” 
“Tt seems to me,” was the answer, “that you have 
already done enough to be talked about everywhere 
for some time.” ‘ Done enough!” said the hero of 
Marengo; *“‘ You are very kind! ‘To be sure, in less 


THE TWO NATIONAL FESTIVALS. 65 


than two years I have conquered Cairo, Paris, and 
Milan; well, my dear fellow, if I were to die to- 
morrow, after ten centuries I shouldn’t fill half a 
page in a universal history.” 

Bonaparte passed through France amid ovations. 
At Dijon he was congratulated by a company of 
young women wearing flowers in their hair, who 
resembled the groups of women who, in the days of 
ancient Greece, used to dance about the victor in the 
Olympic games. At Sens he passed beneath a tri- 
umphant arch on which was inscribed the three his- 
toric words, ‘ Veni, vidi, vici.” When he re-entered 
Paris, in the night of July 2, the enthusiasm was 
indescribable. All, rich and poor, rejoiced, and the 
next day a vast crowd gathered in the Tuilcries 
gardens. 

Every one wanted to see the conquering hero. 
When the chief officials of the state came to congrat- 
ulate him, he said to them: “ Well, have you done 
much work while I was away?” And they an- 
swered, “ Not so much as you, General.” In the 
evening the whole city was illuminated, and without 
orders; every window, even to the garrets, showed 
alight. Twenty years later, at Saint Helena, Napo- 
leon spoke of this day as one of the proudest and 
happiest of his life. 

He was delighted to see Josephine again; not a 
cloud had at that time arisen between them, and their 
union was a real model of reciprocal affection. The 
hero of Marengo felt that this woman, whom he dearly 


66 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


loved, was his good angel. ‘“ Bourrienne,” he said to 
his secretary, ‘do you hear the hurrahs of the popu- 
lace which have not stopped yet? It is as sweet 
to me as the sound of Josephine’s voice.” As La 
Bruyére puts it: “The sweetest sound in nature is 
that of the voice of the woman we love.” 

Bonaparte’s ambition had never been more satis- 
fied, and never had the national pride of France been 
more flattered. “ Military glory,” to quote from 
Miot de Mélito, “was not yet a burden to the citi- 
zens, because the soldiers and officers came from all 
ranks of society without distinction, and returned to 
them without disturbance. The army belonged to 
the country, and its victories, in appearance at least, 
profited the country alone: it had not yet become the 
property of the Head of the State. What, then, was 
needed to assure this prosperity? What was lacking 
to give Europe the example of a great nation, regen- 
erated, in the enjoyment of freedom without license, 
triumphant under skilful leaders, and yet not their 
slave? A Washington.” And he adds sadly, *“ The 
man on whom our destinies depended professed to 
carry us back into the old paths; and unfortunately 
for him as for us, he was only too ingenious, and too 
much aided in this undertaking.” 

In 1800 Bonaparte, apparently at least, was still a 
Republican. Twelve days after his return to Paris 
occurred the national festival of July 14, the anni- 
versary of the taking of the Bastille and of the Feder- 
ation. This festival, one of the finest which had ever 


THE TWO NATIONAL FESTIVALS. 67 


been seen in Paris, still preserved its democratic and 
military character. The people and the army joined 
hands. The Consular Guard, which had left Milan 
June 22, had been ordered to get to Paris in the 
morning of July 14. At Geneva it was invited by 
the authorities to a great banquet; and each officer 
found a laurel wreath under his napkin, with a poem 
by Madame de Staél, who did the honors. The 
Guard, to which had been entrusted the care of bring- 
ing the Austrian flags captured at Marengo, was 
exact at the rendezvous appointed by the First Con- 
sul. At ten o'clock in the morning of July 14, it 
was in the courtyard of the Tuileries, whence it de- 
parted for the Invalides, and then for the Champ de 
Mars. Prince Eugene, who belonged to it, says in — 
his Memoirs, “The members of the Guard who had 
been left on duty in Paris presented a striking con- 
trast, with their neat and smart appearance, to the 
troops just back from Italy, who were all gaunt, 
worn, and covered with dust. This contrast only re- 
doubled the enthusiasm and respect of the Parisians, 
which the mere presence of the soldiers had evoked. 
It was one of the proudest moments of my life.” 
Josephine was very happy to see her son taking part 
in such a triumph. 

The celebration was held at the Invalides, the 
chapel of which was called the Temple of Mars. 
Lucien Bonaparte, as Minister of the Interior, made 
a speech, full of republican sentiment. Doubtless he 
remembered that at Saint Cloud on the 19th Brumaire 


68 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


he had sworn to kill his brother with his sword if he 
should ever lay a hand upon the liberties of France. 
He uttered a warm eulogy of the Revolution, and 
spoke of the capture of the Bastille: “The Bastille 
is taken, O France! Republic, cemented by the blood 
of heroes and martyrs, may Liberty, more precious 
for what it has cost us, and Peace, healer of every 
evil, be forever thy preserving deities!” By a sin- 
gular association of ideas, the brother of the First 
Consul combined the 14th of July and the 18th of 
Brumaire. “The 18th Brumaire completed the work 
of July 14. All that the earlier day destroyed shall 
never be renewed; all that the later has built up is 
never to be destroyed... . Frenchmen, let us bear 
with pride the name of the great people; let this 
name be an object of universal love and admiration, 
so that in the remotest ages the heroes of the 14th 
of July, the defenders and supporters of the Empire, 
may be held up to the respect of our descendants, 
and so that the Republic founded by their efforts 
may be as eternal as their glory.” 

The word Hmpire is, perhaps, a little startling in 
this passage. It sounds like a prophecy, but it must 
be remembered that in 1800 it was regarded as syn- 
onymous with state. The celebrated song, “Let us 
guard the Welfare of the Empire,” was written by 
Republicans in the days of the Republic. It was a 
national hymn. 

When Lucien had finished, three bands played 
simultaneously the “Song of the 25th Messidor” 


THE TWO NATIONAL FESTIVALS. 69 


(July 14), the words by Citizen Fontanes, the music 
by Citizen Méhul. It was the first time that the 
experiment had been tried of a concert by three 
bands at some distance from one another. The solos 
and choruses produced a great effect. 


O glorious destiny ! 

Applaud, people of France! 

Soon, crowned with palms, 

Victory will establish peace. 

The brow of the Alps humbles itself : 
We have crossed its ice; 

And all the forts of Italy 

Open a second time to our soldiers. 


SoLo. 


You die, brave Desaix, you die! Ah, can you believe 
That the glory of your name expires with you? 

The Arab, in the desert, recounts your glory, 

And his children will tell it to their children for all time. 


According to the Moniteur there was great emotion 
at this moment. All turned towards the monument 
raised in his honor, which was topped by his bust, 
the work of Citizen Dupaty. 


Cuorus OF WARRIORS. 


O Condé, Dugommier, Turenne, 

It is you whom I hear, whom I see; 
You seek the great captain 

Who has outdone all his exploits. 
The sons are greater than their sires, 
And your hearts are not jealous. 
France, after so many sufferings, 
Rises again better worthy of you. 


70 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


A great century ends, a great century begins. 
Glory, virtues, fine arts, arise with it! 

O God! see this great people bowed at thy feet. 
The conquerors of Europe invoke thy aid. 


OLp MEN. 


From infancy and youth 
To love work and good morals. 


Youne MEN. 


Give peace to the aged. 


Younc WoMEN. 


Grant to all happier days. 


GENERAL CHORUS. 


Immortal Being, by thy light 
Let France advance henceforth, 
And to warlike merit 

Add all the virtues of peace. 


When the choral was over, the First Consul went 
into the courtyard, behind the dome, where he visited 
the disabled soldiers. The five whom their com- 
panions had picked out as most worthy of national 
reward, were presented to him, and he gave them 
gold medals inscribed with their name, age, birth- 
place, and exploits. Then he went to the Champ de 
Mars, where the troops were waiting for him under 
arms. Every bit of high ground was densely crowded, 
and all the windows of the Military School were 
packed with spectators. 

The Minister of War presented to the three Con- 
suls the officers who carried the captured battle-flags. 


THE TWO NATIONAL FESTIVALS. 71 
Every one wanted to get a nearer view of these 
trophies of the heroes who had deserved so well 
of their country, of the victorious general who had 
accomplished so much. They left the high ground 
and rushed into the Champ de Mars in the midst of 
the troops. Nothing could oppose them. No orders, 
no obstacles, stopped this irresistible throng. Every 
one shouted, “Long live the Republic! Long live 
Bonaparte!” “These two names,” said the Monvi- 
teur, “are equally dear to the French. Let the 
friends of liberty rejoice; so touching a spectacle was 
never seen.... What a people is this! Happy is he 
who can serve it and win its love!” The celebra- 
tion ended with all sorts of amusements: foot and 
horse races, a balloon ascent, illuminations, music 
and dancing in the Champs Elysées, fireworks, and 
a concert. At the grand dinner, at which Bonaparte 
was present with the principal officials of the Repub- 
lic, were to be seen the disabled soldiers who had 
that morning received the medals at the Temple of 
Mars, and with them two of their comrades, one 
aged one hundred and four; the other, one hundred 
and seven. The First Consul proposed this toast: 
“To the 14th of July and the French People, our 
sovereign!” 

The celebration of the 1st Vendémiaire, year IX., 
was also a Republican festival; it was the anniver- 
sary of the foundation of the Republic; it intro- 
duced, however, some monarchical memories. The 
First Consul wished to make combination of ali 


72 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


forms of glory. The festival of the 1st Vendémiaire, 
year IX., was preluded, as it were, by that of the 
fifth complementary day of the year VIII. On that 
day the remains of Turenne, with his sword and the 
bullet that killed him, were transported in great 
pomp to the Temple of Mars (the Chapel of the 
Invalides), where Carnot, the Minister of War, made 
a speech. 

The former member of the Convention spoke in 
the highest praise of the great general of Louis XIV. 
“On the tomb of Turenne the old man will every 
day shed tears of admiration; thither the young man 
will come to test his talent for a military life.... 
In our days Turenne would have been the first to 
spring into the path which our Republican phalanxes 
have followed. Words cannot describe our feelings 
here. What have I to say of Turenne? There he 
is himself. Of his victories? There is the sword 
which his victorious arm wielded. Of his death? 
There is the fatal bullet which tore him from France, 
from all humanity.” 

In the evening of the same day there were free 
performances in the theatres. The First Consul and 
his wife went to the Frangais, where the “Cid” and 
“Tartufe” were given. In the morning, Turenne ; 
in the evening, Corneille and Moliére. 

Another reminiscence of Louis XIV.: On the Ist 
Vendémiaire it was in the Place des Victoires, the 
spot where that king’s statue had been placed that 
Bonaparte laid the corner-stone of the monument to 


THE TWO NATIONAL FESTIVALS. 73 


Kléber and Desaix. In the middle of the square 
there had been put up a building like an Egyptian 
temple with a dome, beneath which stood the busts 
of the two heroes. The windows, balconies, even 
the roofs of the houses, were crowded with specta- 
tors, who burst into frantic applause the moment the 
First Consul appeared. 

Bonaparte afterwards went to the Invalides, where 
he found inscribed in gold letters on marble tablets 
the names of the men who had received arms of 
honor. In the Temple of Mars was given the “Song 
of the Ist of Vendémiaire,” with words by Esmenard 
and music by Lesueur, a Republican hymn, in which 
this stanza was noted : — 


Liberty, banished from the walls of Romulus 

Far from the degraded Tiber, fleeing from tyranny, 
Hastens at your voice ; 

And on the happy banks which the Seine fertilizes, 

It comes to raise again, for the happiness of the world, 
Its altars and its laws. 


Lucien Bonaparte, the Minister of the Interior, 
then spoke in the Temple of Mars, in honor of the 
establishment of the Republic. “Though but just 
born,” he said, “Republican France, stronger than 
all thrones, advances with a giant’s stride, visiting 
and forming again the old boundaries of ancient 
Gaul. The sceptre of Henry IV. and of Louis XIV. 
rolls shattered in the dust: at once the government 
of the sovereign people seizes all the sceptres of 
Charlemagne, So eight years of our era have filled 


74 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


our annals with more victories and wonders than 
eight hundred years of the rule of kings. To our 
Revolution alone belongs this gigantic and wonder- 
ful character; the evils which afflicted us belong to 
all. Happy is the generation which sees a revolution 
begun under a monarchy ended by the Republic.” 
He ended with this lyrical outburst: “It seems to 
me as if upright on a broken statue or on the ruined 
tomb of an old king of France, the century just end- 
ing takes its flight, and says to the beginning century: 
‘I leave you a grand heritage. I have augmented 
all branches of human knowledge; I have been called 
the age of philosophy. I disappeared, and the storms 
re-enter with me into the night of time.... Pre- 
serve peace and liberty; do not disappoint the hope 
of sages’. ...” And then, at the height of his 
enthusiasm: “The century that begins will be the 
grand century. I swear by the people, whose in- 
strument I am, by the wisdom of the first magis- 
trates, by the union of citizens. The great destinies 
of Republican France are accomplished.” 

When the orator had ceased, cries of, “Long live 
the Republic!” resounded from all parts. The lib- 
eral promises of the consular government still inspired 
confidence; and it. was in thus piously uttering the 
name of Liberty, in exalting the capture of the Bas- 
tille, in celebrating with pomp the Republican holi- 
days, that the preparations were laid for the speedy 
re-establishment of absolute monarchy. 


VI. 


MALMAISON IN 1800. 


E have just seen Bonaparte and Josephine in 
all the brilliancy of official life in the palace 
of the Tuileries, surrounded by all the pomp of real 
sovereignty. Let us now study them in their rustic 
life, in an agreeable, modest country-house. The 
husband and wife appear without formality, showing 
their domestic qualities, and one soon grows interested 
in the slightest details of their lives. We are almost 
like their guests, and we may learn to know them as 
if we had spent years in their company. We should 
study them especially at Malmaison, for no other 
mansion is so rich in memories of them. By going 
through it as it is to-day, deserted and empty, it is 
possible to imagine it as it was in 1800. Some day, 
perhaps, it will be torn down, the victim of some rey- 
olutionary mob; now, however, while it is still stand- 
ing as it existed in the beginning of the century, it is 
easy to give each room its old physiognomy, to recall 
its former animation, to renew its past. 
On the left bank of the Seine, close to the village 
of Rueil, at the foot of the charming amphitheatre 
i) 


76 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


topped in the distance by the aqueduct of Marly, 
stands the famous mansion amid dense verdure. I 
walk up the avenue of palm-trees to the castle gate ; 
passing through this, I enter the main courtyard, 
with gravel paths intersecting the grass-plots and 
flower-beds as in old times. I gaze at its front with 
its three stories, its two wings, its slate roof; every- 
thing is as it was in 1800. Under a tent-shaped ve- 
randa, surmounted by gilded crescents, I enter the 
great hall paved with squares of black and white 
marble. This runs through the mansion, giving a 
view of the park beyond. ‘The roof above is vaulted, 
and is upheld by four stucco columns. To the left 
of the hall are the dining-room, the council-chamber, 
the library; to the right, the billiard-room, Jose- 
phine’s boudoir and drawing-room, the picture-gallery. 

The dining-room is decorated with six nymphs, in 
black and white, on a stucco ground. In old times 
there was a large window of plate-glass between the 
hall and the dining-room, through which Josephine 
used to watch the children coming to receive toys 
and sweetmeats. On the mosaic floor I see a rose 
which marked the place where she used to sit at table. 
Then there is the council-chamber where so many 
important deliberations were held, the library with a 
door on which are painted two helmets and two in- 
scriptions from the Greek and from the time of chiy- 
alry. This was the taste of the time — reminiscences 
of antiquity and of the Middle Ages. There is not a 
single book on the shelves, but I notice the medal- 


MALMAISON IN 1800. (are 


lions of Plutarch’s heroes and the mahogany arches 
separated by windows. I picture to myself Bona- 
parte in this room, studying, reading, meditating, and 
unfolding his maps. rom the library there is a pas- 
sage into the garden, over a little bridge across the 
moat, which on this side lies close to the castle. In 
1800 this bridge was covered by a canvas tent which 
gave the First Consul another room. He used to 
have his table carried thither, and would work there 
alone, stepping every moment from the bridge out 
into the garden, and from the garden back to the 
bridge. “When I am in the open air,” he used to 
say, ‘I become conscious that my ideas expand more 
freely. I can’t understand men who can sit by the 
stove and work without any view of the sky.” 
Retracing my steps, I return by the library, 
council-hall, and dining-room to the hall, and pass 
through it to the billiard-room, which is wainscoted 
with wood painted light green. I see the billiard- 
table, or rather its frame, for in 1870 the Prussians 
took away its cloth and the bed. I then look at 
the boudoir, which is perfectly bare, and go into the 
drawing-room, which is equally empty. ‘The mantel- 
piece, into which were set mosaic medallions, a 
present from the Pope, has been damaged, but the 
arabesques, which represent flowers and birds in gold 
on a white ground, have not been destroyed. It was 
in this room that Josephine used to hold her levees, 
and here, a few days before her death, she received 
the visit of the Emperor Alexander. The murors 


78 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


which reflected so many beautiful faces, so many 
gorgeous uniforms, are broken; but one would say 
that the graceful shade of Josephine wanders silently 
through this drawing-room of which she was the cen- 
tral figure. On one side is the gallery where the 
musicians used to stand, and where Garat and other 
great artists sang, where Queen Hortense, who was a 
charming composer and performer, used to play the 
harp and sing,—the gallery where were many pic- 
tures and objects of art, now all dispersed. 

We have examined the ground floor, and will now 
ascend the staircase opening on the billiard-room, 
and go up to the first floor. To the right an ante- 
room leads up to Josephine’s bed-chamber, a round 
room. In old times it was hung with red. We can 
still make out the painting on the ceiling, a blue sky 
with clouds and a few dashes of gold on the wood- 
work. The place where the bed stood is empty. 
Napoleon and Josephine occupied this room for a 
long time, and it was of this period of his life that 
Napoleon said at Saint Helena, “Not one of my 
thoughts, not one of my actions, escaped Josephine ; 
she followed, grasped, guessed everything, —a fact 
which sometimes inconvenienced me in my occupa: 
tions.” It was there that she wrote to her mother, 
who had stayed in Martinique, “ You ought to love 
Bonaparte ; he makes your daughter very happy; he 
is kind, amiable, in a word, a charming man.” This 
room was also the scene of her unhappiness. To it, 
when driven from the Tuileries, she returned to sleep 


MALMAISON IN 1800. 79 


the evening of the day when her divorce was pro-— 
nounced. In it she drew her last breath; and there, 
after his return from Elba, he locked himself up to 
muse in solitude. The next room was his retiring- 
room during the Consulate. Another room and a 
bathroom completed their private apartment. At 
the other end of the castle were the rooms which 
Hortense occupied after her marriage. - 

In the middle of the first floor is a long corridor, 
lit by eight windows opening on the courtyard. It 
leads to the little rooms which are generally assigned 
to guests. During the Consulate they were simply 
furnished. ‘The aides-de-camp and visitors used to 
occupy them. 

Descending the staircase to the hall, we may go 
out into the garden, over a little bridge decorated 
with two obelisks of red granite, a reminiscence of 
the campaign in Egypt. Here is the broad lawn 
where, in 1800, they used to play prisoners’ base, and 
where they dined in pleasant weather. It is covered 
with clumps of trees, and by streams flowing from a 
spring over which stood a little temple hidden by 
the trees. In the gardens there were places for all 
sorts of games to amuse the aides-de-camp and the 
young people of the family and the court. Like 
Marie Antoinette’s Little Trianon, Josephine’s Mal- 
maison had its summer-houses, its sheepfolds, its cot- 
tages, its exotic trees, its rare plants, belvederes, its 
greensward, its little lakes with swans both white 
and black, its Temple of Love. The temple still 


80 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


exists; I see its Ionic columns of red marble, but 
the god is no longer there; I do not find the statue 
of Eros, who, on a pedestal garlanded with roses, 
held his bow to wound another conquest with his 
dart: my eyes seek in vain Voltaire’s famous dis- 
tich :— 


Whoe’er thou art, thy master see; 
He is, or was, or soon shall be. 


In 1800 Malmaison was the resting-place, the favor- 
ite resort, of the First Consul. ‘hither he went for 
distraction from the cares of power and the fatigue 
of greatness. There in the springtime he used to 
take what he called his furlough; that is to say, the 
evening of the ninth day, the whole of the tenth day, 
and the next morning. In summer, after his return 
from Italy, he used to spend many days every week 
in this dear Malmaison where Josephine had estab- 
lished herself. There the great man was amiable, 
familiar, and kind. He was more than informal; he 
was companionable. He used to take part in the 
games with all the zest of a young man. He would 
make jokes and admit discussions, and he told stories 
with astounding brilliancy and wit. As host he was 
considerate, affable, entertaining, and he left his 
guests perfect freedom. The entertainments were 
likewise informal and merry. Those about the first 
magistrate of the Republic did not suffer from the 
wearisome formality, the servile refinements, the in- 
sipid flattery, the childishly intricate etiquette which 


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MALMAISON IN 1800. 81 


became so onerous under the Empire. Bonaparte, 
who had not yet abandoned republican ways, was not 
yet intoxicated by the monarchical incense. His 
meals were simple; he sat scarcely half an hour at 
table. After dinner, when he was in a good humor 
and the weather was fine, he was free to steal a few 
minutes from his work, and he used to play prisoners’ 
base with all the eagerness of a schoolboy. 

Let us watch these sports. Here is the First Con- 
sul, the hero of Arcole, of the Pyramids, of Marengo, 
who takes off his coat and runs about like a boy of 
fifteen. Among the women I distinguish his three 
sisters, Elisa, Pauline,.and Caroline; Madame Cam- 
pan’s two nieces, Kiglé and Adele Auguier (one of 
whom became the wife of Marshal Ney, the other 
Madame de Broc); Madame Cochelet; Sophie de 
Barbé-Marbois (afterwards the Duchess of Piacenza) ; 
Miss Clarke ; Mesdemoiselles de Lally-Tollendal, Vic- 
torine Victor, Isabey; Elisa Monroe, the daughter of 
the future President of the United States; and above 
all Hortense de Beauharnais, Hortense, who is every- 
where the first in the games, in study, and in society. 
Among the men, the First Consul’s three brothers, 
Lucien, Louis, and Jerome, then the future Prince 
Eugene, Lauriston, Isabey, Didelot, Lucay, Rapp, 
Savary, and finally Bourrienne, who thus describes 
the merrymaking: “The game begins, and two lines 
of prisoners start from the two sides, but the number 
is equal and the victory uncertain; it is the moment 
for a bold stroke, the guard is about to yield. Bona- 


82 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


parte springs forward with most eager activity, and 
chases Hortense; she dodges him most actively, but 
he is close behind, and about to catch her, when his 
foot trips on a root hidden in the grass, and he falls 
at full length on the battle-field; all utter a cry, but 
Bonaparte gets up laughing, and surrenders himself 
to the victors.” Bourrienne adds that almost always 
unexpected falls would stop the illustrious player in 
the midst of his triumph. 

Is not this a miniature representation of what was 
to happen to him afterwards in more serious matters ? 
Unexpected falls at the moment of triumph, is not 
that Napoleon’s destiny? But the falls at prisoners’ 
base are attended only with innocent pleasantry, 
while those of the successful general will be followed 
by deep anathemas. ‘Then came the exchange of 
prisoners, which was always the source of hot dis- 
pute ; Hortense was always considered equal to two, 
for her boldness knew no bounds. In point of fact, 
these differences formed the only aristocracy at the 
Malmaison.” But soon the progress of etiquette 
interrupted these sports, which were thought too 
democratic; tumbles on the grass seemed to lower 
the dignity of the head of a state, and one was averse 
to thinking that the First Consul could be captured 
by his aides-de-camp. The games continued in the 
summer of 1801, but in 1802 they stopped; they 
disappeared, like many other things, with the repub- 
lican simplicity. 

The game finished, they would walk in the park, 


‘“MALMAISON IN 1800. 83 


enjoying the cool evening air. In the moonlight, 
beneath the huge trees, the women, in their white 
dresses, resembled graceful phantoms. Nothing 
pleased Bonaparte more than the sight of a pretty 
woman, wearing gracefully a white dress; and Jose- 
phine, knowing this, almost always wore dresses of 
white India muslin. Later they would return to the 
house, and in the ground-floor rooms the First Con- 
sul used to display his marvellous talent as a talker. 
The Revolution, philosophy, the East, were his favor- 
ite subjects. His emphatic manner, his highly im- 
aginative language, his novel and bold ideas, which 
were always original and poetical, aroused interest, 
surprise, and admiration. As for Josephine, her 
mind was nothing extraordinary, but no one under- 
stood better than she did how to do the honors of a 
drawing-room. Bourrienne said of her, “I have 
never seen a woman carry into society such an equa- 
ble character, or such a spirit of kindness, which is 
the essential quality of an amiable character.” 

At that time Josephine was rejoicing in her happi- 
ness. She did not yet see the vision of divorce ris- 
ing before her, she no longer gave Bonaparte any 
excuse for jealousy, she rather treated him with the 
tenderest, most affectionate solicitude. At Malmai- 
son she was really happy, for there she led a life 
after her own heart. No palace, however splendid, 
could appear to her preferable to this simple country- 
house. Yet she was uneasy; and while she was en- 
joying this agreeable leisure, plots were weaving 


84. THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


against her husband’s life. When she was expecting 
his arrival she would start and tremble at the slight- 
est sound. In 1800 the neighborhood of Malmaison 
was not secure. People coming from Paris were 
often fearful of attack from thieves hidden in the 
quarries between Chant du Coq and Nanterre. But 
there was no attempt at Malmaison; Paris was the 
scene of Ceracchi’s conspiracy and of the explosion 
of the infernal machine, before the end of the year 
1800, which had begun so brilliantly and happily. 


VII. 
THE INFERNAL MACHINE. 


HE extreme partisans on both sides who had at 
first hoped that Bonaparte would be their man, 

and who saw him working for himself alone, were 
exasperated by their disappointment and staked their 
last hope on crime. Not being able to conquer the 
First Consul, they determined to kill him. Thus a 
twofold and permanent conspiracy, —that of the Red 
Terror and that of the White Terror. The fierce revo- 
lutionaries, who had never forgotten the passions and 
hatred of 1793, used to meet in secret and, with fierce 
imprecations, swear that he, whom they called the 
tyrant, should die. On the other hand, the Royalists 
in the pay of England used its money to hire a real 
legion of thieves and assassins. The famous Georges 
Cadoudal, an irreconcilable Chouan, from his myste- 
rious retreat at Morbihan used to direct the bands of 
highwaymen who stopped the stage-coaches on every 
road, and he sent to Paris bravos to kill the First 
Consul. There was from that moment a perpetual 
struggle between the police and the conspirators, 
with new suspicions, new denunciations, new fears. 

85 


86 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Bonaparte was continually surrounded by ambushes, 
and, tired and impatient at the numberless reports 
which exposed a new peril at every step, he was 
sometimes tempted not to read them, but to trust 
quietly to the grace of Providence. Sometimes the 
plan was to stab him, at another to shoot him with a 
gun ora pistol; sometimes to kill him at the theatre, 
again to abduct him between Paris and Malmaison. 
Josephine, who was very timid and impressionable, 
lived in a continual state of alarm. She thought she 
saw a snare in every clump of trees, an assassin at 
every turn of the road. Malmaison seemed to her a 
nest threatened by vultures. 

First, there was the conspiracy of Ceracchi and 
Arena. Ceracchi, a Roman and a fanatical Republi- 
can, could not forgive the First Consul for protecting 
the Pope. Arena was a Corsican, the brother of one 
of the members of the Council who, on the 19th 
Brumaire, escaped through the windows of the 
orange-house at Saint Cloud. ‘The two men had for 
accomplices Demerville, a former clerk of the Com- 
mittee of Public Safety; Topino-Lebrun, a painter, a 
pupil of David; and a certain number of Italian refu- 
gees who desired a republic in both Rome and Paris. 
They determined to assassinate the First Consul at 
the opera, where it was announced that he would be 
present October 10,1800. But the police got wind 
of the plot, and such precautions were taken that 
Bonaparte thought that he could go to the perform- 
ance without danger. Before starting from the 


THE INFERNAL MACHINE. 87 


Tuileries, at the moment when, after dinner, Jose- 
phine was dressing, Bessiéres entered with Eugene de 
Beauharnais. He went up to them and said, smiling, 
“Well, you don’t know that they want to assassinate 
me this evening at the opera.” Eugene and Bes- 
siéres exclaimed with horror, and at the same time 
expressed their surprise that he persisted in going to 
the performance. “Calm yourselves,” he said; ‘the 
police have taken all the necessary precautions.” 
Bessiéres, who was in command of the cavalry of the 
guard, ordered Eugene de Beauharnais to start at 
once for the Opera-house with a picket guard, and to 
protect the First Consul. When he reached the 
Opera-house, Eugene made half his men dismount, 
and after giving his orders to the rest, entered the 
building, fifty paces in front of Bonaparte, and him- 

_ self preceded by his men, thus making the people in 
the passage-way think that he was the First Consul. 
Suddenly he halted his men, faced them in two lines, 
stepped aside, and Bonaparte passed quietly through 
the double line into his box. A few minutes later 
Ceracchi and Arena were arrested in the house. This 
attempt had failed, but it was soon followed by 
another and a more formidable one. 

This time the Republicans were not concerned with 
it; it was a Royalist conspiracy, organized by three 
cut-throats of Georges Cadoudal, named St. Réjant, 
Limoélan, and Carbon. The first-named of these had 
acquired, as a naval officer, some familiarity with 
artillery, and he was about to put it to a terrible use. 


88 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


One Chevalier, a former workman in the arsenals 
under the Convention, was arrested when working 
at a machine which was doubtless intended for an 
attempt on the First Consul’s life; it consisted of a 
barrel of powder and grape-shot, to which was fas- 
tened a gun-barrel. This implement of destruction 
gave St. Réjant his idea of the famous infernal ma- 
chine. He confided his secret only to his two accom- 
plices, and, evading the suspicions of Fouché’s police, 
he wove with terrible skill the threads of his con- 
spiracy. 

Whenever the First Consul drove out from the 
Tuileries, towards the rue de Richelieu and the 
boulevards, he always took the rue Saint Nicaise, a 
long, narrow street, no longer existing; it started 
from the rue des Orties, which ran along the quay of 
the Louvre, and continued at the other side of the 
Place du Carrousel until it reached the rue Saint’ 
Honoré, to the left of the rue Richelieu, in which 
stood the Opera-house. St. Réjant chose the rue 
Saint Nicaise for the execution of his plan. Then he 
hired a stable, calling himself a pedler, and in it he 
put a horse and cart,—a cart which was destined 
to be the infernal machine. He calculated the time 
which the First Consul’s carriage would take to go 
from the Tuileries to this place, and arranged to have 
the machine explode at the moment determined. 
He knew that Bonaparte was going to the Opera- 
house the 8d Nivése (December 24, 1800), on Christ- 
mas Eve, to hear the first performance of an oratorio 


THE INFERNAL MACHINE. 89 


of Haydn, and he chose this day for his crime. The 
machine was shaped like a cart, and it contained a 
barrel of powder. St. Réjant placed it in front of 
the house, where the First Consul would have to pass, 
and he was brutal enough to have the horse held by 
a young girl only fifteen years old, who might have 
been killed by the explosion. He arranged to receive 
word from his two accomplices of the moment when 
the carriage of the First Consul would arrive, then 
he would start the fire in the barrel and take the 
necessary precautions for his own safety. The police 
were in absolute ignorance of the conspiracy, and the 
three wretches fancied themselves sure of success. 
Let us now turn our attention to the Opera-house 
as it appeared in the evening of the 8d Nivdse. 
Haydn is the fashionable composer, and every one is 
talking about his oratorio, “The Creation.” It is 
Garat, the unrivalled Garat, the modern Orpheus, 
music made man, who with Madame Walbonne and 
Madame Branchu, two excellent singers, is to bring 
out the new oratorio. The orchestra is larger than 
usual; the choruses have been doubled, those of the 
Théatre Feydeau having been added to those belong- 
ing to the opera. The hall is as bright as day. 
Every place has been taken for this performance, to 
which all the officials, all the people of fashion, and 
all the artists mean to come. The women are in full 
dress, and all the fashionable beauties take good care 
not to miss such a festivity. The oratorio is about 
to begin; the musicians are tuning their instruments 


90 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


amid the hum of the crowd which always precedes 
the first performance of a long-expected piece. Al- 
reaay people are turning their opera-glasses towards 
the distinguished people. It is known that the First 
Consul and Madame Bonaparte mean to come, and 
that is an additional attraction. 

Meanwhile what is going on at the Tuileries? 
Josephine, Hortense, and Madame Murat were very 
anxious to go to the theatre, and to reach it in good 
season so as not to lose a note of the oratorio. But 
Bonaparte was less eager for this pleasure; he had 
been working hard all day, and worn out, he had 
just fallen asleep on a sofa. He was awakened with 
difficulty, and at last agreed to go to the Opera-house. 
His hat and sword were brought, and he got into the 
first carriage with Lannes, Bessiéres, and his aide 
Lebrun. An escort of mounted grenadiers follows 
him. Josephine was to take the second carriage with 
Hortense, Madame Murat, and Rapp. A _ trifling 
incident, to which perhaps these four persons owed 
their preservation, delayed their departure for a few 
moments. Josephine was going to wear for the 
first time a magnificent shawl which she had received 
from Constantinople; she had thrown it on her shoul- 
ders, when Rapp said to her in an outburst of frank- 
ness, “ Let me make a suggestion, madam; you have 
not put on your shawl as becomingly as usual.” 
Josephine then asked Rapp to fold it into the shape 
that Egyptian women wore it, and while he is doing 
this they heard the First Consul’s carriage driving 


THE INFERNAL MACHINE. 91 


away. ‘Hurry, sister,” said Madame Murat, impa- 
tiently ; “‘there’s Bonaparte going.” 

The three went down the staircase of the Pavilion 
of Flora and got into the carriage. Josephine and 
Madame Murat took the back seat, and Hortense 
and Rapp the other. They were going through the 
Carrousel, and the First Consul was already in the 
rue Saint Nicaise, when a loud explosion was heard. 
Afterwards, at Saint Helena, he recounted how, hay- 
ing left the Tuileries half-asleep, he had dozed off 
again, and he suddenly opened his eyes, dreaming 
that he was drowning in the Tagliamento. At the 
time of his first campaign in Italy he had insisted on 
crossing this stream in the middle of the night, hay- 
ing no notion how deep it was, and he tried to drive 
throughout in his carriage, with an escort of men 
carrying poles and torches. He came near paying 
very dear for his imprudence; his horses lost their 
footing, and he narrowly escaped being ingulfed. 
The memory of this incident was haunting his 
dream when the infernal machine exploded with a 
tremendous report. Lannes and Bessiéres, his com- 
panions, were very anxious to stop. ‘To the opera,” 
Bonaparte shouted; and the coachman, who was 
drunk, and thought the explosion was a salvo of 
artillery fired in honor of his master, and did not 
know until the next day what had happened, con- 
tinued on his way at full speed. In a moment the 
carriage reached the door of the Opera-house; and 
the First Consul entered his box without a sign of 


92 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


emotion. Not one of the spectators had any idea of 
what had just happened. The performance went on. 
To be sure, a faint noise had been heard above the 
music, but it had aroused no anxiety. But Junot 
had said, ‘What a singular hour to be firing can- 
non!” 

What had become of Josephine, Hortense, and 
Madame Murat? Were they hurt? Bonaparte did 
not know. At the moment of the explosion they 
screamed with terror. Hortense was slightly cut in 
the arm by a piece of glass when the carriage-win- 
dows were broken by the concussion, and Josephine 
nearly fainted. Rapp got out to see if the First 
Consul was safe and sound. He made his way 
through the corpses and ruins in the rue Saint 
Nicaise to the Opera-house. Meanwhile Josephine’s 
carriage went on by another street, and the three 
women arrived at the theatre. They entered the 
First Consul’s box, which was to the right of the 
stage, between the two columns which separated the 
balcony from the stage boxes. Josephine was trem- 
bling with emotion, and Hortense had wrapped a 
handkerchief about her arm. Although near her 
confinement, Madame Murat remained impassible, 
with all her brother’s firmness. When Bonaparte 
saw his wife, his sister, and his step-daughter, he 
greeted them with a smile, then he asked for a pro- 
gramme, and continued to look at the audience with 
imperturbable calmness. 

Suddenly the news of the attempt spread through 


THE INFERNAL MACHINE. 93 


the hall. The Prefect of Police brought all the 
details that he could pick up: more than fifteen 
persons killed, more severely wounded; forty houses 
seriously damaged; the First Consul and his wife 
saved by a miracle. At that moment, as if moved by 
an electric current, immense applause arose from the 
pit, the orchestra, the amphitheatre, and the boxes. 
All eyes were turned towards Bonaparte; every hand 
was clapping. It was a strange mingling of indigna- 
tion and enthusiasm, of wrath and joy, of hate of the 
criminals and of love for the man of destiny who had 
just escaped their machinations. 

The First Consul did not stay long at the theatre. 
On his return to the Tuileries he found many offi- 
cials, who had gone there to congratulate him. Then 
his anger, which he had hitherto restrained with diffi- 
culty, broke out. “It’s the work of the Jacobins!” 
he exclaimed. ‘It’s the Jacobins who tried to assas- 
sinate me. There are no priests, no nobles, no Chouans, 
in this thing. It’s the men of September, the rascals 
covered with mud, who are in open revolt, in contin- 
ual conspiracy, in solid line against every govern- 
ment that has established itself. Not three months 
ago you saw Ceracchi, Arena, Topino-Lebrun, De- 
merville, try to assassinate me. Well, this is the 
same thing. They are the blood-drinkers of Septem- 
ber, the assassins of Versailles, the brigands of the 
dist of May, the conspirators of Prairial, the authors 
of all the crimes against the governments. If they 
can’t be chained up, they must be crushed. We 


94 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


must clean France of these disgusting dregs; we 
must have no pity on such rascals!” Bourrienne, 
who recounts this scene, adds, ** One must have seen 
Bonaparte’s animated face, his rare but impressive 
gestures, have heard the sound of his voice, to get 
any idea of the wrath with which he uttered these 
words.” 

For several days the First Consul maintained that 
it must be the Jacobins who were at the root of this 
crime 3 the evidence alone convinced him that it was 
the work of the Royalists. Both parties, however, 
were pursued indiscriminately ; and although in the 
conspiracy of Ceracchi and his accomplices there 
was no overt act, they all were sent to the scaffold, 
like the makers of the infernal machine which had 
made so many victims. Public indignation did not 
distinguish between the criminals; punishment, even 
if excessive, was demanded. ‘The men of the old 
régime said that if Bonaparte were dead, the guillo- 
tines of 1793 would be set to work again at once; 
and the friends of the new ideas imagined that he 
alone prevented the triumph of the counter-revolu- 
tion and of the foreigners. Hence there was general 
joy. For many days the attempt was the sole subject 
of conversation. ‘The Parisians crowded to look at 
the place of the disaster, at the pieces of chimneys, 
bricks, tiles, and slate; and then, at the sight of the 
ruins, they denounced the men who had done this 
thing. The day after the explosion people gathered 
in a mass from the gates of the Louvre, well into the 


THE INFERNAL MACHINE. 95 


courtyard of the Tuileries; and when the band of 
the Consular Guard began to play the celebrated air, 
“Where is One better off than in the Bosom of One’s 
Family?” frantic applause greeted the First Consul. 
Fervent gratitude was expressed for the coachman, 
who, the rumor ran, had saved his life by his skill. 
Three or four hundred cab-drivers gave him a dinner, 
for he had become the hero of their profession. For 
a long time there was sung in the streets a song, of 
which numberless copies were printed, containing 
these crude couplets: — 


An infernal machine 

Of new invention, 

By its explosion 

Wrought unheard-of devastation, 
Overthrowing all about it, 

Men and houses. 


The Consul in his carriage 
At that moment was passing; 
He was going to the opera. 
He it was, for certain, 

That they tried to kill; 

But it was a vain attempt. 


The swiftness of his horses 

Had forestalled the blow; 

But, suddenly stopping, 

He hastens to make enquiries. 
Without fearing this black design, 
He pursued his way. 


His wife, all in tears, 
Wishes to share his danger. 


96 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


But they come and reassure 
About the horrible uproar, 
Saying to her, “He has got by; 
The Consul is not wounded.” 


The incident of the infernal machine made a deep 
impression on Josephine, not merely by the horrid 
nature of the attempt, but still more from fear of the 
consequences it might entail. One would have said 
that by the light of this fatal flame, at the sound of 
this explosion, she had seen the apparition of what 
she dreaded most— divorce. Her enemies were now, 
in fact, to take the occasion of this plot to advance 
their pretended ideas of what was needed for the 
public safety, the national security, and the future of 
the country, for the advantage of the supporters of 
hereditary succession. Napoleon’s brothers, who had 
always been hostile to Josephine, were already trying 
so to mould public opinion that the First Consul, 
having become almost a sovereign, should be obliged 
to divorce his barren wife; and Lucien, who had so 
often and so ostentatiously declared his republican 
faith, was now, under the Republic, going to start 
the discussion of a dynasty. Josephine already saw 
the misery and anguish, for her husband as well as 
for herself, which were poisoning destinies apparently 
the most enviable. When she saw this officer of for- 
tune, this Corsican, absolutely six years earlier, and 
now by means of marvellous events, the equal of the 
highest potentates, yet never contented, and always 
menaced, she might have well meditated these words 


THE INFERNAL MACHINE. 97 


of the “Imitation of Christ,” a book on which his- 
tory throws light and which throws a light on his- 
tory: “ Men say to the weak, What a happy life this 
man leads! How rich he is! How great! How 
powerful! But consider heavenly joys, and you will 
see that all these temporal advantages are nothing, 
that they are not stable, that they are rather a bur- 
den, because no one can possess them without fear 
and uneasiness.” 


VIII. 
PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. 


N general, unsuccessful conspiracies have no other 
effect than to consolidate the powers they at- 
tempted to destroy. The main result of the infernal 
machine was to add to the prestige of the First Con- 
sul, and to give him a pretext to smite his enemies, 
white or red. A few weeks later, the peace of Luné- 
ville filled the public with joy. The Empire of Ger- 
many recognized the natural boundaries of Republi- 
can France, and the existence of the Batavian, Hel- 
vetic, Ligurian, and Cisalpine Republics. The war- 
like nation had become peaceful; after dreaming of 
nothing but victories, it was dreaming of nothing 
but treaties. Diplomacy, from a thing despised, 
became the fashion, ike many other old-fashioned 
things; foreigners, recently abhorred, were received 
with every attention, and from all parts of Europe 
they hastened to Paris as the centre of elegance and 
pleasure. Foreigners of distinction made no secret 
of their surprise. What! this superb city, this mag- 
nificent capital, is the spot which the émigrés said 
was a savage den, a brigand’s cavern! This Head 
98 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. 99 


of the State is the man they called an ogre, a veteran, 
a bandit! This brilliant and witty society is what 
the men of Coblenz called the leavings of the galleys 
and the slums! They were astounded at the wild 
exaggerations of partisans when they saw in amiable, 
gracious, hospitable France, drawing-rooms worthy of 
the old régime, and a Republican court which in splen- 
dor surpassed many courts of powerful kings. As 
General de Ségur said, “The new society was more 
attractive to the foreigners than the old. And in fact, 
so varied was its composition, that it offered more 
liberty, variety, and originality, and yet with no real 
loss of the urbanity and desire to please which the 
French character and the example of the old court 
had spread among all the ranks of the cultivated 
and intelligent middle classes.” No one thought 
any more about the guillotines, or red caps, or of the 
‘“* Marseillaise,” or asked of impure blood to moisten 
our furrows. The god of battles appeared bearing 
an olive-branch. The officers tried to pass for men 
of society. Balls took the place of the bivouac. 
The young officers of even the lowest birth imitated 
the manners and speech of the young noblemen of 
the Versailles court. Bonaparte said of his military 
companions, “ What supports them is the idea they 
have that they have taken the place of the old nobil- 
ity.” The Marquis Colbert de Chabanais, in his in- 
teresting memoirs of his grandfather, General Colbert, 
said very truly: “The society which was rising at 
that time was animated by but one thought, to re 


100 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


place the old nobles ; and in the reaction against the 
manners of the Revolution, every one was trying to 
recover the tone, the ways, the dress of the old 
régime. The Jacobin, who had been most bitter 
against certain ways of dressing as the insignia of 
an aristocracy, was now the first to adopt them, and 
as anxious to wear silk stockings as he was later to 
seize the titles once rejected and scornfully pro- 
scribed.” 

It is possible to see a sort of monarchical advance 
from the beginning of the Consulate to the establish- 
ment of the Empire. Every day there was a step 
backwards in habits, fashions, and institutions. The 
Tuileries grew more and more like a royal palace. 
The Faubourg Saint Germain filled up. The Repub- 
lican phraseology disappeared by official order; the 
new calendar was never formally abolished, but the 
old one gradually reappeared, and Sunday took the 
place of the décadt, or tenth day. The church fes- 
tivities were celebrated. The giving of presents on 
New Year’s Day, the costumes of Carnival and Lent, 
the masquerades of Shrove Tuesday, oratories, the 
promenade at Longchamps, Easter eggs, — all these 
things began to reappear. The theatres resumed 
their former appearance. There was a return to 
1788. Dinners, balls, festivals of every sort, sup- 
ported the shopkeepers of Paris. The émigrés, on 
their return from exile, began to accustom themselves 
to the new order of things. Chateaubriand has said, 
speaking of this time, “Order began to reappear; 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. 101 


the cafés and the streets were deserted, and people 
stayed at home; scattered families were reunited ; 
they gathered the fragments of their inheritance, as 
the troops assemble after a battle and find out how 
many are lost.” The melancholy author of “ René” 
at last discovered the charms of consular France 
which at first had filled him with horror. “ Gradu- 
ally,” he tells us, “I began to enjoy the sociability 
which is a characteristic of the French, the delight- 
ful intercourse, the swift and easy exchange of intel- 
ligence, the absence of stiffness and prejudice, the 
indifference to wealth and title, this natural levelling 
of social distinctions, this equality of mind, which 
makes French society unrivalled and atones for our 
defects. After a few months’ residence with us one 
cannot live anywhere except in Paris.” 

The First Consul’s three sisters, Madame Elisa 
Bacciochi, Madame Pauline Leclerc, and Madame 
Caroline Murat, were at the head of society and were 
rivals in luxury. The first had literary aspirations, 
and her intimate friend was Monsieur de Fontanes, 
the official leader of literature. The second, re- 
nowned for her elegance and her whims as a pretty 
woman, was a wonderful beauty. The third, also 
handsome, was already noted for her ambition. Mad- 
ame de Staél, by her wit, knowledge, and eloquence, 
continued to be the queen of the Parisian drawing- 
rooms. She did not lose courage in the advances 
she made to Bonaparte, but she inspired him with a 
sort of instinctive repulsion, as if he knew that this 


102 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


brave woman’s soul would oppose his power. Mad- 
ame Récamier aroused a more and more general 
enthusiasm. Her husband had bought the Necker 
mansion in the rue Mont Blanc, where she gave 
grand parties. In summer she installed herself close 
by Paris, in the Castle of Clichy, which enabled her 
of an evening to go to the Opera or to the Théatre 
Frangais. After the performance, she would drive 
out to the country. She was not exclusive in her 
friendship, and she gathered about her, besides men 
of letters like La Harpe, Lemontey, and Legouvé, 
men of all parties who must have been astonished at 
finding themselves in the same company: thus men 
of the old court, like the Duke of Guignes, M. 
de Narbonne, Christian of Lamoignon, Adrien and 
Mathieu de Montmorency; and people of the new 
régime, like Lucien and Joseph Bonaparte ; members 
of the Convention, like Barrére and Fouché; and 
revolutionary generals, like Masséna, Moreau, and 
Bernadotte. 

Nor were the arts forgotten. Garat the singer 
aroused the most enthusiastic admiration. He was 
called the modern Orpheus, and wherever he sang 
there was always to be seen in the front row, watch- 
ing his every movement, languishing, weeping, sob- 
bing, even fainting from rapture, a lady of distinction, 
a foreigner, who had been prominent in Paris during 
the last days of the Monarchy, and who had just 
returned to the capital. In his interesting book about 
her, the bibliophile Jacob describes her as more than 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. 103 


once, before three or four hundred spectators, throw- 
ing herself into the enchanter’s arms and falling at 
his feet as if to worship him. This lady was the 
Baroness de Kridener, the future prophetess, the 
future spiritual guardian of the Emperor Alexander. 
Who would have thought, on seeing her adoring 
Garat, that she would become the soul of the Holy 
Alliance, and Napoleon’s most implacable foe? Like 
Madame de Staél, she made advances to him and was 
repulsed. The hero of so many battles had occasion 
to repent his indifference to these two women, whom 
Josephine, with more tact, knew how to manage. If 
it had not been for Madame de Kriidener, probably 
the Allies in 1814 would have treated with the Em- 
pire, instead of restoring the Bourbons. 

But to return to 1801. The drawing-rooms were 
brilliant, the theatres crowded. There were many 
great actors, of whom the greatest was Talma, whom 
the First Consul regarded as a personal friend. As 
Chateaubriand puts it, “ What, then, was Talma? 
Himself, his own time, and antiquity. He was pro- 
foundly and intensely moved by love and patriotism. 
He had the fierce inspiration, the savageness of the 
Revolution through which he had passed. The terri- 
ble sights he had seen were repeated in the remote 
and mournful accents of the choruses of Sophocles and 
Euripides.... His mere entrance on the stage, the 
mere sound of his voice, were intensely tragic. His 
face expressed suffering and thought; they showed 
themselves, too, in repose, in his poses, his gestures, 


104. THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 

his gait.” With actors of the highest merit, the 
Théatre Frangais soon regained its old fame. The 
Théatre Feydeau was equally admired. Here sang 
the delightful tenor Ellevion, the excellent bass Mar- 
tin, and Madame Dugazon, who gave her name to 
parts of a certain style. The opera was the favorite 
resort of the fashionable world, who made the boxes 
as much of a spectacle as the stage. A company of 
Italian singers had just taken the Olympic Hall, a 
little theatre in the rue Chantereine, where prominent 
beauties used to display their gorgeous dresses. 

Josephine was very happy in this vortex of pleas- 
ures, in this life of the drawing-room and the theatre. 
Every first performance, every ball, every grand din- 
ner, was an excuse for ordering a new gown, for 
wearing her jewels. She was delighted to receive 
the distinguished foreigners who were thronging to 
Paris, and to renew the habits of the old régime, for 
which she was admirably suited. 

She was much gratified by the visit to Paris, in 
May, 1801, of the Infant of Parma, Louis, the son of 
a sister of Marie Antoinette, and of his wife, a daugh- 
ter of Charles IV., King of Spain. The treaty of 
Lunéville conceded to this young prince, Tuscany, 
which had been made the Kingdom of Etruria, and 
before entering his new realm he went to Paris in 
order, as it were, to receive his investiture from the 
hands of Bonaparte. Josephine was much flattered 
at receiving, or, rather, at protecting, the nephew of 
the martyred Queen and the daughter of the King of 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. 105 


Spain. Since she had always continued to be a Le- 
gitimist, even in the Republican drawing-rooms of the 
Directory, she was enchanted at an opportunity to be 
agreeable to a Bourbon prince, and it was especially 
at such a time that she congratulated herself on hav- 
ing married the soldier of fortune to whom she was 
indebted for these great privileges. 

Although the King and Queen of Etruria were 
travelling under the style of the Count and Countess 
Leghorn, they were received with all the honors due 
to crowned heads. ‘They were entertained with 
splendid entertainments. Bonaparte was more and 
more convinced that, in spite of the Revolution, the 
French had always remained unchanged, that they 
liked luxury, titles, show, fine equipages, rich liveries, 
decorations, and all the trinkets which pamper and 
tease human vanity. His monarchical plans grew 
stronger, and possibly he began to dream of the day 
when he should have Talma, his favorite actor, play 
before an audience of kings. The Legitimists were 
simple enough to fancy that the First Consul was 
working in their behalf, and the creation of the King- 
dom of Etruria was but the prelude to the restoration 
of the Kingdom of France. 

Those who thus imagined were very ignorant of 
Bonaparte ; he had the character of Cesar. Doubtless 
he would have preferred the first place in a village 
to the second in Paris. In spite of the hopes of the 
Faubourg Saint Germain, he declined with scorn 
the sword of the Constable of France. What he 


106 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


wanted was the sceptre. What do I say? One 
sceptre was not enough for him. He was inwardly 
entertained by the credulity of the Royalists, and 
Josephine’s zeal for the Legitimists, far from influ- 
encing him, only made him smile. 

The visit of the King and Queen of Etruria gave 
him an opportunity to test public opinion. It showed 
that even the Republicans were not annoyed by the 
sight of this prince and princess. Just as the great 
Roman Republic liked to make and unmake kings, 
so the French Republic, which had created sister- 
republics, took a certain satisfaction in making a 
kingdom. Bonaparte, who had some very aristo- 
cratic traits, was secretly proud to appear as the pro- 
tector of a descendant of Louis XIV. He thought, 
and truly, that the visit of a Bourbon to France was 
a striking proof of growing calmness. Only seven 
years before, Marie Antoinette had laid her head on 
the block, and now her nephew was crossing the place 
of her execution on his way to Malmaison to pay his 
respects to the First Consul! 

The King and Queen of Etruria entered Paris in 
old carriages of the time of Philip V., drawn by mules 
covered with bells, and stopped at the Spanish Em- 
bassy, in the rue Mont Blanc. The day after their 
arrival they were taken to Malmaison by the Cheva- 
lier d’Azara, the Spanish ambassador. The First 
Consul received them with military honors, and re- 
turned their visit the next day. 

A succession of brilliant entertainments was given 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. L107 


in honor of the royal guests. That of M. de Talley- 
rand, then Minister of Foreign Affairs, in his castle 
of Reuilly, was a model of elegance and good taste. 
It was in summer; the weather was propitious; na- 
ture and art combined to make the entertainment a 
success. In the illuminated gardens the moon and 
the stars rivalled the brilliancy of the Bengal lights. 
The party began with a concert, and when the end 
of the gallery was opened, there was disclosed a scene 
representing the place in front of the Pitti palace at 
Florence. Dancers and singers, dressed as Tuscan 
peasants, played and danced, while they sang coup- 
lets in praise of their Majesties. An Italian impro- 
visator, named Gianni, pronounced a tolerably long 
ode in honor of the young King, who was delighted 
to hear his native tongue. The new sovereign had 
been somewhat chagrined when, on paying his re- 
spects in Italian, the First Consul had replied in 
French; he then said, ‘Ma, in somma, siete Italiano, 
siete nostro”; and Bonaparte answered dryly, “ I am 
a Frenchman.” At M. de Talleyrand’s the King and 
Queen of Etruria might have imagined themselves in 
their new kingdom. When they went out into the 
garden, they were surrounded by a band of pretty 
Tuscan peasant girls, who offered them flowers. 
Supper was served in the orange-house. The tables 
were placed around the orange-trees, which rose like 
epergnes ; from the branches hung baskets full of 
sweetmeats. Fireworks and a ball closed the enter- 
tainment. 


108 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


The féte given a few days later by the illustrious 
Chaptal, at that time Minister of the Interior, was no 
less successful. It took place in the Brissac mansion, 
in the rue Grenelle Saint Germain. A scene repre- 
sented the city of Florence illuminated; a Tuscan 
village had been built, peasants sang in chorus, others 
recited passages from Petrarch and Tasso. Hidden 
musicians played and sang in every direction. <A 
temple was seen on the top of a little hill, and there 
Apollo and the Muses celebrated the arts and glory. 
After supper the company entered the large gallery, 
where nymphs and shepherds from the opera danced 
quadrilles. One of the girls gave the King a bou- 
quet which in his hands, as if by magic, took the 
shape of a crown, holding verses by the poet Esme- 
nard. The Duchess of Abrantés in her Memoirs de- 
scribes the First Consul’s enjoyment of the evening. 
‘“‘T have seldom seen him so much interested by any- 
thing of the sort, and he expressed his satisfaction 
not only that evening, but long afterwards. He 
spoke of the songs and music from the concealed 
performers, which filled the gardens as if by enchant- 
ment.” 

June 25, the anniversary of the battle of Marengo, 
there was another entertainment, given by the Min- 
ister of War, Berthier. There was a much-adorned 
representation of camp life. Supper was served in 
the garden under tents; bivouac fires lit up the 
groves; panoplies and trophies adorned the dancing- 
rooms. Officers in uniform, standing behind the 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. 109 


ladies at table, were their cup-bearers. A balloon 
was sent up in the dark night, which, as it rose, dis- 
closed in flame the name Marengo. 

Madame de Montesson also entertained the King 
and Queen of Etruria at her house in rue du Mont 
Blanc, next door to the Spanish Embassy. Charlotte 
Jeanne Béraud de la Haye de Riou, Marchioness of 
Montesson, was certainly one of the most remarkable 
of the ladies of the consular society. Born in 1787, 
she was at that time sixty-four years old; a widow 
since 1769, she had made a morganatic marriage in 
1773 with the Duke of Orleans, who was the father 
of Philippe Fgalité and the grandfather of the King 
Louis Philippe; he died in 1785. During the Revo- 
lution she had been most devoted to Louis X VI., who 
treated her like a relative when the number of his 
courtiers was dwindling day by day. She was a 
charming woman, well educated, witty, very polite, 
a survival of the manners of the old aristocracy. 
Being a great admirer of the First Consul, in whom 
she saw the restorer of society, she was devoted to 
him and to his policy. Bonaparte, who was much 
flattered by this attitude of so distinguished a woman, 
had restored her property and was glad to see her the 
mistress of a house which he regarded as a model of 
refinement and real elegance. Whenever she invited 
Josephine to breakfast, Bonaparte urged his wife to 
accept, and he himself was often the guest of the 
widow of the Duke of Orleans. ‘The Marchioness of 
Montesson’s Wednesday dinners were renowned. 


110 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


On that day, in Lent, she used to have a dinner with 
meat for the majority of her guests, and one without 
for ecclesiastics and those who remained faithful to 
the laws of the Church. All the old nobility in Paris 
would meet in her drawing-room, and her very mag- 
nificent ball recalled the most splendid entertainments 
of the Monarchy. 

At the Théatre Frangais there was a special per- 
formance of the “ Cidipe.” The theatre was crowded ; 
for nothing could gratify the Parisians more than to 
see Bonaparte doing the honors of Paris to a Bour- 
bon. When the actor who played Philoctetes re- 
cited this line, — 


I have made kings; but would not be one, 


the audience turned towards the box where the Head 
of the Republic was sitting with his royal guest, and 
burst into the wildest applause. A few days later 
the King and Queen of Etruria left for their new 
kingdom, where they were installed by Murat, and 
the Queen, who was a wise and intelligent woman, 
kept up a friendly correspondence with Josephine, 
whose gracious reception had charmed her. 

Hardly had the young King left Paris when after 
the royal festivities came the Republican holiday, 
the 14th of July, the anniversary of the capture of 
the Bastille. It had been regarded as important that 
‘a Bourbon should not be present at this celebration ; 
but there was nothing very marked about it. A 
temple of Victory was built before the Palace of 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. y fa Bk 


the Corps Législatif, with a portico supported by six 
columns and four monuments, dedicated to the com- 
memoration of Desaix, Joubert, Hoche, and Kléber. 
In the middle of the temple there was a piece of 
sculpture representing Victory offering peace to 
France. In the middle of the Place de la Concorde 
there was a column built in honor of the army. 

The most impressive of the national festivals of 
the year 1801 was undoubtedly that of the 18th Bru- 
maire (November 9). It was known as the Festival 
of General Peace. At this happy moment every one 
was talking of universal peace. The month before, 
arrangements had been made which settled every 
difficulty. The preliminaries of peace with England 
had been signed in London, October 1, and the news, 
which reached Paris two days later, had aroused 
most unprecedented satisfaction. On both sides of 
the Channel there was the same wild enthusiasm. 
In London the populace had unharnessed the horses 
from the carriage of Colonel Lauriston, the First 
Consul’s aide-de-camp, and drew it with their own 
hands. In the same month, treaties or settlements 
of some sort had been made by France with Portu- 
gal, the Porte, the regencies of Tunis and Algiers, 
with Bavaria and Russia. Joseph Bonaparte, who 
had been appointed by his brother general peace- 
maker, and who had had the distinction of signing 
the treaty of peace with America at Morfontaine, 
with Austria at Lunéville, was going to sign the 
English treaty at Amiens. Meanwhile, the English 


iu, THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


plenipotentiary, Lord Cornwallis, reached Paris to 
take part in the festival of the 18th Brumaire, and 
on that day his was the only carriage allowed to be 
driven. One would have said that the First Consul 
had as strong a desire for peace as he had had for 
war. 

The Place de la Révolution had become the Place 
de la Concorde. The 18th Brumaire, it was deco- 
rated with porticos and covered with dance-halls. 
On the left bank of the Seine, between the Pont 
Royal and the Pont Neuf, there had been built 
a temple of Commerce. A fleet of launches and 
barges, decorated and dressed with flags, with crews 
representing the different nations of Kurope, ascended 
the river from Chaillot to this temple. Scarcely 
had they arrived when songs and dances in honor of 
peace began. A balloon was sent up bearing the 
flags of all the friendly powers, and from it there 
started a parachute which covered a descending Mer- 
cury. A huge theatre had been put up in the Place 
de la Concorde. In it were enclosed the famous 
horses of Marly, where were given performances 
illustrating the horrors of war and the benefits of 
peace. First there was a representation of the bom- 
bardment of two cities; afterwards there appeared 
temples dedicated to Peace, to the Arts, to Industry, 
which opened and disclosed the men whom the war 
had spared. At the end of the platform of the Pont 
Neuf stood a triumphal arch bearing Bonaparte’s 
name. At the Salm mansion, now the Palace of the 


PARISIAN SOCIETY IN 1801. 113 


Legion of Honor, a colossal statue represented a hero 
sheathing his sword in token of peace. 

Napoleon at Saint Helena once said in reference to 
this happy period of his life: “I really thought that 
the fate of France, of Europe, and my own were set- 
tled, and that there would be no more wars. But the 
English Cabinet kindled everything anew, and to 
it alone Europe owes all its subsequent troubles ; 
it alone is responsible. For my part, I had intended 
to devote myself solely to the government of France, 
and I think I should have produced wonders. My 
fame would have been as great, and I should have 
been much happier; I should have made a moral 
conquest of Europe, such as I came near making 
with arms. What glory they have robbed me of!” 
In 1801 France was at peace and radiant with joy. 
Any one who would have predicted the terrible catas- 
trophes which were about to burst forth within a few 
years would have been called a madman. It was a 
period of intoxication, of enchantment, the traces of 
which are preserved in all the contemporary Memoirs. 
France was happy because it aroused the envy of all 
the other powers. Perhaps the most necessary thing 
for its ardent and impressionable character is the 
gratification of its pride. Without this it is sad, 
agitated, uneasy. It is a nation which cannot endure 
mediocrity or misfortune. Without glory it is out 
of its element. 


TX. 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 


N the summer of 1801 and the spring of 1802 
Malmaison saw its fairest days. At that time 
Saint Cloud was not then the First Consul’s country- 
seat; Malmaison, in its new splendor, had no rival. 
It was known as a favorite resort of great men and 
celebrated women. One would have said that it had 
an air of its own, and that the very stones were con- 
scious of their importance. It was not a palace, and 
yet it was something more than a castle. It was 
plain that it would in time belong to history, and 
that its furniture would be a matter of interest to 
every one. The place inspired a sort of attentive 
and respectful curiosity. 

Fontaine, in his unpublished manuscript Memoirs, 
which might well be called the Journal of an Archi- 
tect, wrote under date of December 10, 1800: ** The 
First Consul ought really to come to Malmaison only 
to rest and to forget once a week the affairs of goy- 
ernment; but in fact people make formal calls, min- 
isters come out to report, and officers to pay their 
respects, and everything is too small for such a mul- 

114 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 115 


titude. They are enlarging the stables and offices. 
They have added to the park all the land lying be- 
tween the road, Mademoiselle Julien’s house, and 
the garden. ‘Trees are set out everywhere.” Great 
changes and improvements were made in the park 
and in the house between 1800 and the summer of 
1802. To the park was added the whole plain sep- 
arating it from Rueil. The view was then bounded 
by the Cdte d’Or, a large hill, on the west, and by 
the wood Saint Cucufa in the far southwest. The 
park was divided into two distinct parts, united by 
gentle slopes. ‘The first was a smooth, flat stretch of 
about a kilometre behind the castle; the other was 
more picturesque and showed greater variety, lying 
as it did on the slope of a hill. In the first was the 
large grove watered by the brooks which started 
from the Temple of Love. These little streams 
wound among the flower-beds and clumps of trees 
towards a little lake, into which they fell in a series 
of cascades; another stream flowed into the lake 
from the other side. This lake lay in the lower part 
of the park, surrounded by plane-trees and poplars. 
From it started the brook which Delille had sung; 
it ran into the garden through two rows of venerable 
chestnut-trees. On the right of the lake was a shep- 
herd’s hut, and in the middle of the wood a Swiss 
dairy. 

Josephine did not like the French gardens, such as 
Le Notre designed, with their majestic quincunxes, 
their square grass-plots, their clipped yews, their 


116 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


shrubs set in a bed of Procrustes. She cared only 
for English gardens, which had been made fashion- 
able by the Prince of Ligne at Bel-Ciil; by Horace 
Walpole at Strawberry Hill; by the Marquis of 
Caraman at Roissy. Fontaine wrote about her as 
follows, in December, 1800: “ Madame Bonaparte is 
much distressed at our making some straight paths. 
She wants everything done in the English fashion. 
An avenue set out to lead straight from one place to 
another seems to her a barbarous infringement of the 
laws of gardening, and it is only at the cost of the 
good opinion she had of our talents that we have 
succeeded in getting for the main approach and for 
the road to the stables a dispensation from the rule 
demanding winding ways.” Fontaine wrote again 
on this subject in September, 1801: “Our heresy in 
regard to the present fashion of gardens has much 
injured us in Madame Bonaparte’s estimation. To 
speak about order and regularity in a garden was 
sheer blasphemy. They wanted nothing but groups, 
effects, contrasts, and, above all things, sentiment.” 
The park contained an abundance of surprises and 
contrasts: here was Love, in his temple; there a statue 
of Saint Francis in Capuchin dress, in a grotto; here 
a colossal Neptune, Puget’s masterpiece, a Neptune 
overlooking the lake, and brandishing his trident 
between two rostral columns of Sérancolin marble; 
there, under a weeping willow, was a tomb with 
a bas-relief carved by Girardon. Close to the cas- 
tle was a large and fine conservatory, designed by 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 1 a Ef 


M. Thibaut of the Institute. It was lofty enough to 
contain the longest exotic shrubs. In the middle a 
portico, upheld by two marble columns with gilded 
bases and capitals, opened into the drawing-room, 
whence one looked out into a circle of rare flowers 
and plants spreading on both sides. Josephine, the 
poetic creole, the pearl of the Antilles, seemed a 
beneficent fairy reigning over this charming and mys- 
terious empire. 

The inside of Malmaison, as well as the park, had 
been much beautified. The decorations of the hall, 
the dining-room, the council-chamber, the library, 
the billiard-room, the boudoir, the drawing-room, the 
gallery, left nothing to be desired. In September, 
1800, the architect Fontaine wrote: ‘The decora- 
tors have finished the ceilings of the library and the 
frieze in the room of the First Consul, on the first 
floor, above the drawing-room. Madame Bonaparte 
takes a lively interest in everything we do. She is 
ordering some new decorations, and wants us to 
give our attention to the gardens, the waters, the 
hot-houses, in short to everything which can make 
this place more agreeable, for she regards it as her 
own private property.” A bathroom was put in the 
first floor, near the First Consul’s room, by the side 
of the door, and on the other side, a dressing-room 
and a little sleeping-room. ‘Two small staircases were 
built, one leading from the First Consul’s room to 
the gallery on the ground floor; the other, from the 
first floor to the library and the council-chamber. 


118 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


“We are very sorry,” writes the architect, “that the 
old shape of the house and the previous changes do 
not let us place the First Consul’s rooms over the 
library; as it is, if he wishes to go from his chamber 
to his study or to the council-chamber, he has to 
pass through the whole width of the house, whether 
he goes through the corridor on the first floor, or 
comes down into the gallery and passes through the 
rooms on the ground floor.” 

We cannot leave Fontaine’s manuscript Memoirs 
without citing what he says of the little theatre built 
for amateur performances. “It is now some time,” 
he wrote, March 22, 1802, “since a love of theatrical 
performances began to appear in the household of the 
First Consul. ... We had made a sort of portable 
theatre which was set up for this purpose in the 
gallery, near the drawing-room. Then we had con- 
trived to construct a little hall by taking a corner of 
one of the largest rooms in the north pavilion on the 
second floor; but this last plan, although it gave 
more space, was less commodious, for it required that 
the spectators should leave the drawing-room, go up 
two pairs of stairs, to sit in a narrow room which 
was neither large nor handsome. At last, the First 
Consul has yielded to long-continued supplications, 
and has commissioned us to build as cheaply as pos- 
sible a little theatre, entirely isolated, in the court- 
yard on the side of the farm. He has given us a 
month to do it in, and we shall set to as soon as he 
has approved the cost. Yesterday we made a plan 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 119 


and an estimate, and gave them to M. Bourrienne 
who, with Madame Hortense, Madame Bonaparte’s 
daughter, is one of the most enthusiastic actors.” 
The architect promised to build in thirty days, for 
the sum of thirty thousand franes, in the farmyard, 
near the gallery of the ground floor, a theatre of 
wood, with no pretentions to monumental solidity 
and no external ornaments; and he kept his word. 
In shape it was polygonal, and it was covered with 
slates. It held easily about two hundred spectators. 
The ceiling was decorated with printed calico. It 
contained a pit, a row of boxes, a gallery, an orches- 
tra, and two little greenrooms. The floor was built 
above the ground, to avoid dampness, and made to 
serve as a ballroom on occasion. 

Since the building was isolated, a gallery of can- 
vas led to it from the ground floor. It was inaugu- 
rated May 12, 1802, not by amateurs, but by some 
Italian actors, who gave the “Serva Padrona.” “ The 
hall was very satisfactory,” says the architect, “and 
if the piece played had been better adapted to the 
taste of the spectators, they would have been more 
amused.” 

A word is necessary about the amateurs who used 
to play in this theatre, and who might be called the 
actors in ordinary to the First Consul. The Duchess 
of Abrantés says in her Memoirs: “ Mademoiselle de 
Beauharnais had been so successful at Madame Cam- 
pan’s in ‘Esther’ and the other plays in which Mes- 
demoiselles Auguier and Mademoiselle Pannelier also 


120 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


showed remarkable talent, that she was obliged to 
appear on the stage at Malmaison. Eugene de Beau- 
harnais acted remarkably well; I am not prepossessed 
when I say that Junot had really great talents; M. 
Didelot made a capital Crispin. I got through my 
parts very tolerably, and General Lauriston made a 
noble Almaviva, or any other lover in court dress. 
But the best of the company was M. Bourrienne ; he 
acted serious parts to perfection.” 

This is the way Bourrienne speaks of the actors of 
Malmaison: “Hortense acted admirably; Caroline 
(Madame Murat), only tolerably; Eugene, very well. 
Lauriston was a trifle heavy; Didelot, passable, and 
I may say without vanity, that I was not the worst 
in the company. If we were not very good, it was 
not for lack of good advice and good instructions. 
Talma and Michot used to come to make us rehearse 
together and separately. How many lessons I have 
received from Michot when walking in the beautiful 
park! And, if I may mention it, it gives me to-day 
great pleasure to return to these trifles which are so 
important when one is young, and so marked a con- 
trast to the greater stage on which we did not repre- 
sent fictitious characters.” Bourrienne adds that the 
company owned a rich collection of properties. The 
First Consul had given each one of the amateur 
actors a collection of plays, richly bound, and as the 
protector of the company, he had had expensive and 
elegant costumes made for them. “Bonaparte,” con- 
tinues Bourrienne, “took great pleasure in these 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 121 


performances; he liked to see comedies acted by his 
friends; sometimes he even complimented us. Al- 
though I liked it as much as the others, I was obliged 
to tell him more than once that my occupation left . 
me very little time for learning my part; then he 
would assume his caressing way, and say, ‘Oh! 
nonsense; you have such a good memory! You 
know what pleasure I get from it; you see how these 
plays light up Malmaison; Josephine is very fond 
of them. Get up earlier.” ‘And I sleep so much, 
as it is, don’t I?’ ‘Come, Bourrienne, do it to 
please me; you do make me laugh so! Don’t de- 
prive me of this pleasure; I haven’t too many, as 
you know.’ ‘Indeed I won’t deprive you of any. 
I am delighted to be able to give you any entertain- ° 
ment.’”? And thereupon Bourrienne would set about 
learning his part. 

Napoleon, whose administrative genius busied itself 
with trifles as well as with great things, looked after 
the details of the theatre at Malmaison with the same 
solicitude that he showed for the condition of his 
soldiers. He was, moreover, well read in dramatic 
literature. From his infancy he had studied and 
committed to memory the French tragedians, and 
especially Corneille, whom he warmly admired. He 
liked to declaim the principal passages. In 1795, 
before the 13th Vendémiaire, when he was yet un- 
known, Talma gave him tickets to the Théatre Fran- 
cais. He was interested in the new plays, and used 
to examine them with care, commenting upon them 


Pay THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


with great intelligence and originality. Most great 
statesmen have been interested in the theatre. 
Napoleon, in this respect, had the same tastes as 
Richelieu and Louis XV. There is nothing strange 
in this. Is there not a certain resemblance between 
the ruler of a state and the manager of a theatre? 
Do not both have to do with leading men, supernu- 
meraries, optical illusions, a pit, hired applauders, 
newspaper notices, and a public which applauds one 
day and hisses the next? Are not great men actors 
in the drama of history? And is not human life 
a tragic comedy, in which they play the principal 
parts? Was not Napoleon all his life an incompar- 
able manager, the manager of his own glory? He 
did not need to look to Talma for lessons in the art 
of posing so as to impress the popular imagination ; 
he had already a wonderful knowledge of scenic 
effect. Victorious or beaten, all-powerful or a. pris- 
oner, he knew how to arrange the incidents of his 
career to resemble the events of a colossal drama. 
Who understood better than he how to select, for 
those actions of his that would one day become 
historical, the stage and the setting that would best 
suit them ? 

In the hands of an organizer like Napoleon, the 
performances at Malmaison could not fail to succeed. 
At first the list of their plays was very small. They 
did not dare try the great plays at first, with natural 
distrust of their powers. But soon, after playing a 
number of gay and amusing short pieces, like the 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 128 


* Héritiers,’ the “ Etourdis,” the “ Rivaux d’eux- 
mémes,” and “ Défiance et Malice,” at the request of 
the First Consul, they ventured to try more impor- 
tant plays. 

On the evenings of their performances there was 
always a very brilliant company at Malmaison. After 
the play the ground-floor rooms were crowded. The 
performance was followed, either by a concert, where 
were to be heard the best singers and the most skilful 
musicians of the time, or by a small ball, or rather a 
dance, three or four quadrilles going on at the same 
time in the spacious room. The First Consul him- 
self did not disdain to dance with untiring energy ; 
and on such occasions he would ask the musicians 
to play the old tunes which reminded him of his 
boyhood. 

The Duchess of Abrantés gives a vivid description 
of these pleasures, in which she liked to take part. 
“There was nothing more delightful,” she says, 
“than a ball at Malmaison, at which the women who 
composed what was really, though without the name, 
Madame Bonaparte’s court took part. All were 
young, many were pretty; and when they were 
dressed in their white crape gowns, carrying flowers, 
and wearing garlands as fresh as their young, laugh- 
ing faces, radiant with gayety and happiness, it was 
delightful to see them dancing in the hall in which 
were the First Consul and the men with whom he 
was weighing the fate of Europe.” Bourrienne also 
recurs to the same memories with a certain tender- 


124 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 

ness, When, he says, “‘ Away from the cares of govern- 
ment, which, so far as possible, we left behind us at 
the Tuileries, we were sometimes very happy in our 
colony of Malmaison; and then we were young, and 
what does not youth beautify?” And he adds, re- 
calling the drawing-rooms after the performance of a 
play in the little theatre, “There the conversation 
was most animated and varied; and I may say with 
truth that gayety and freedom were the soul of the 
conversation, and made its whole charm. ‘There 
were refreshments of every sort, and Josephine did 
the honors with such grace that every one could feel 
that she had been more occupied with him than with 
any one else. After these delightful entertainments, 
which generally closed at midnight, the guests would 
return to Paris.” 

Hortense was the leading star of the theatre of 
Malmaison. She made a great hit as Rosina in the 
“Barber of Seville.” The other parts were thus cast: 
Almayiva, General Lauriston; Figaro, M. Didelot; 
Basile, Eugene de Beauharnais; Bartholo, Bour- 
rienne; l’Eveillé, Isabey, the artist. It will be re- 
membered that the same play had been given a few 
years before on another, equally remarkable, ama- 
teur stage at the Little Trianon. Beaumarchais’s 
piece was played there August 19, 1785, at the very 
moment when the incident of the “ Diamond Neck- 
lace” occurred. It was Marie Antoinette who took 
the part of Rosina; Almaviva was Count de Vau- 
dreuil; Bartholo, the Duke of Guiche; Basile, M. 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 125 


de Crussol; and the Figaro was the Count d’ Artois, 
the future Charles X. 

The memory of Marie Antoinette was still very 
fresh at the Consular Court, and Madame Campan, 
who had brought up, in her boarding-school at Saint 
Germain, a good many of the young women of this 
new court, had instructed them in the traditions of 
the old régime. The country balls of the Little 
Trianon, the taste for pastorals and idyls, the sheep- 
tolds, the Swiss chalets, the fashion of wearing white 
dresses, the English gardens, the rustic life, —all these 
things reappeared at Malmaison. Like Marie Antoi- 
nette, Josephine delighted in a park with retreating 
paths and winding walks, with the greensward coy- 
ered with daisies and violets. Like the Queen she 
was full of feeling, kind, generous, sympathetic with 
the suffering, sometimes gay, but generally sad and 
melancholy. Like the Queen she had the love of 
flowers which is shared by almost all pretty women. 
May it not be because there was an analogy between 
their fate and that of flowers? Like the flowers, they 
charm the eye, delight with their beauty, and, alas! 
fade in a day, and are soon forgotten even where 
they once shone in all their beauty! 

Many things have changed at Malmaison. The 
park, mutilated, cut up, and reduced to the propor- 
tions of a simple garden, is but the shadow of what 
it was. The avenue of chestnut-trees is destroyed, — 
a magnificent avenue of trees, centuries old, in which 
Napoleon liked to walk, musing as he’ listened, at 


126 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


the hour of the Angelus, to the distant sound of the 
church-bell at Rueil. There are no traces left of 
the fine hot-house which contained so many rare 
plants and exotic shrubs. There is not the least 
fragment of the pretty little theatre where Hortense 
used to act. Malmaison survives; I see the shrine, 
but where are the divinities ? 

How Josephine loved this blessed spot! People 
travel far from Paris to look at landscapes which are 
certainly less fair. All about Malmaison there are 
many spots to tempt an artist. There are, too, many 
excursions for the lady of the castle. In a few min- 
utes one can reach Butard, a hunting-house with a 
charming pavilion in the style of Louis XV., which 
the First Consul bought. There it is delightful to 
float in a little boat on the pond of Saint Cucufa. 
There is an agreeable promenade on the superb ter- 
race of Saint Germain, that graceful and majestic 
amphitheatre which looks out on a fairy-like pano- 
rama, and the aqueduct of Marly lends a classical 
air to the horizon, recalling Poussin’s most beautiful 
landscapes. 

Josephine preferred Malmaison to all her other 
residences. In comparison with this favorite abode, 
the Tuileries seemed like a prison, and in fact about 
this royal palace, now destroyed, there was even at 
the time of its greatest splendor something sad and 
gloomy. Malmaison, on the other hand, was cheer- 
ful; only the gentle and happy side of life appeared 
there. There was no rigid rule of etiquette, but 


MALMAISON IN ITS GLORY. 127 


every one breathed freely and took pleasure in living. 
Josephine was right in wishing to remain there. 
Napoleon had quite as much fame in this compara- 
tively modest residence as beneath the gilded cano- 
pies of Saint Cloud, Compiégne, or Fontainebleau. 
At Malmaison he still preserved some of that Repub- 
lican simplicity which was so well suited to the origin 
and character of his glory, which was very great, but 
of recent growth. As for monarchical splendor, was 
not the Tuileries enough in the winter, and was it 
necessary to install himself in the old royal residences 
in the summer? Palaces are gloomy places to those 
who have not been born in them; they are the home 
of illusions; they nourish the optimism which is 
often the forerunner of a downfall. At Malmaison 
the First Consul still heard the truth. At Saint 
Cloud no one will dare to tell it to him. He will 
have no friends; he will have courtiers. 

Josephine had a presentiment of all this. She would 
not have wished a larger, a more magnificent resi- 
dence than this Malmaison which she had selected, 
bought, and prepared to receive her husband on his 
return from Egypt. It was her ideal. Hoc erat in votis. 
September, 1801, Fontaine the architect wrote: ‘The 
castle of Malmaison, in spite of all we have spent, 
and all the additions, is too small for the First Con- 
sul, who requires a country-house. He has thought 
of taking Saint Cloud and having it put into condi- 
tion.... Madame is averse to giving up Malmaison, 
which she regards as her own property, which she is 


128 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


having decorated, and which she prefers to any spot 
on earth.” She looked on this place as her own, as 
her work, and she wanted to stay there; for a secret 
instinct told her that the palaces would bring her 
misfortune. If Bonaparte had listened to her, he 
would never have established himself at Saint Cloud. 
But under the spur of his gigantic ambition he began 
to find a house which had previously belonged to 
private owners, unsuitable to his lofty rank. He 
demanded a court, a military and a civil establish- 
ment, a complicated system of etiquette, imposing 
pomp. Even country life demanded some of the 
show of royalty. He demanded henceforth to be 
everywhere, and at all times, on the same footing as 
the kings and emperors, his future brothers, and 
Saint Cloud appeared as necessary to his advance to 
sovereignty. 


xe 
HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS. 


()" all the young girls of the Consular Court 

the most remarkable and the most gifted 
was Josephine’s daughter, Hortense de Beauharnais. 
Amiable, courteous, witty, with the figure of a nymph, 
light hair, and a brilliant complexion, she was the 
poetic image of France at that time, in all its youth- 
ful loveliness, force, and confidence in the future, of 
that France, lit up by the light and glowing dawn. 
Everything seemed to smile on the charming young 
girl, who was endowed with the rarest and the richest 
qualities. Yet, like almost all women of exceptional 
intelligence, talents, and beauty, she was predestined 
to an unhappy life. When she was married, early in 
1802, she had already had experiences of sadness, 
grief, and disappointment. Her infancy had been 
clouded by deep tragedy. Born in Paris, April 10, 
1783, she had, when five years old, started for Marti- 
nique with her mother, who was returning home to 
escape the miseries of her unhappy marriage, and they 
were nearly lost in a fierce tempest at the mouth of 
the Seine. Returning to Paris in 1790, she was an eye- 

129 


130 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


witness of the horrors of the Revolution, her father, 
General de Beauharnais, being one of its noblest vic- 
tims. In obedience to a law requiring the children of 
noblemen to learn a trade, Hortense became a dress- 
maker’s apprentice, and her brother a joiner’s, while 
their parents were in prison. Their former governess 
carried them, dressed like working-people’s children, 
to the Carmelite Prison, where their mother was 
locked up. Alexander de Beauharnais was guillo- 
tined, and only Robespierre’s overthrow saved Jose- 
phine from the same fate. Hortense was eleven at 
the time, and these terrible events left a lasting im- 
pression on her sensitive character, stamping it with 
a melancholy which nothing could dispel. In her 
happiest moments she was not free from sadness, and 
her smile was not far from tears. 

In September, 1795, she was entrusted to the care 
of Madame Campan, formerly a lady-in-waiting to 
Marie Antoinette. At that time Madame Campan 
kept a boarding-school in which were revived all 
the social and religious traditions of the old régime. 
Hortense’s companions were Caroline Bonaparte, the 
future Queen of Naples; Stéphanie de Beauharnais, 
the future Grand-duchess of Baden; Léontine de 
Noailles, daughter of the Duke of Mouchy; Renée 
Leclere, later the wife of Marshal Davout; Elisa 
Monroe, daughter of the Minister of the United 
States to the Directory, who afterwards was Presi- 
dent; Mademoiselle Hervas, who married Duroc; 
Emilie de Beauharnais, famous in 1815 for her devo- 


HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS. 131 


tion to her husband La Valette ; Mademoiselle Coche- 
let, who subsequently became a reader at the Dutch 
court. Hortense, who was very fond of her compan- 
ions, continued her intimacy with them even after 
she became Queen. At the school, her room-mates 
were Madame Campan’s nieces, Adéle and Eglé 
Auguier, one of whom became Baroness de Broe, 
and the other the wife of Marshal Ney, Duchess of 
Elchingen, and Princess de la Moskowa. At. this 
period of her life when, to quote her teachers, she 
had not ‘the honor, or the good fortune, or the mis- 
fortune to be a princess,” Hortense was comparatively 
happy. In her devotion to study and the fine arts, 
she found more solid joys than in the pomp of great- 
ness, and she certainly preferred that modest and 
obscure asylum, the boarding-school at Saint Ger- 
main, to the splendor of the Dutch palace. 

After her mother’s marriage to Bonaparte, Hor- 
tense soon perceived the power of his genius. She 
conceived for him a feeling of intense admiration 
and affection. Bonaparte, too, was as fond of her as 
if she had been his own child. ‘“ He who generally 
had a low opinion of women,” says Madame de Rému- 
sat, “always expressed his respect for Hortense, and 
the way in which he spoke of her and treated her 
disproves the accusations which have been brought 
against her. In her presence his language was al- 
ways more reserved and decorous. He often appealed 
to her to decide between her mother and himself, and 
listened to advice from her which he would not have 


132 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


received from any one else. ‘ Hortense,’ he used to 
say, ‘makes me believe in virtue.’” When Bonaparte, 
after his return from Egypt, wanted to separate from 
Josephine, it was she who succeeded in calming his 
wrath. But she was none the less pained by the sus- 
picions of which her mother was the object, and her 
uneasiness and distress, though for a moment dis- 
pelled, soon reappeared. 

Yet Hortense knew some happy moments at the 
Tuileries and at Malmaison. Her stepfather’s trium- 
phal entrance into the royal palace, the reviews, the 
universal joy over the battle of Marengo, the enthusi- 
asm and national pride which fired France, — all these 
things thrilled her young soul. She was thoroughly 
patriotic, and worshipped glory. Her songs and poems 
reflect her character. She was like the medieval 
heroines, the women who inspired knights and trou- 
badours. The ideas and sentiments of chivalry were 
what fed her heart; the harp, the lute, the sword, 
were always in her thoughts. She might have pre- 
sided at a tournament, or have been the lady-love of 
the bravest paladins. At the time of the Consulate 
there was still poetry in women’s hearts. The love 
of money, which since then has done so much harm 
to society, had not yet polluted the spring of noble 
actions. The spirit of sacrifice, heroism, the ideal, 
were still believed in. It is women who mould 
the character of men; if they are selfish, avari- 
cious, self-interested, if they prefer in their lovers 
money to courage, to beauty, to intelligence, to all 


HORTENSE DE BEAUHMARNAIS. 133 


the qualities of the heart, men necessarily become 
prosaic, vulgar, low. We who live in a practical, 
positive time cannot readily form an idea of the 
generous enthusiasm, the noble unselfishness, the 
patriotic pride, the contempt for danger, the thirst 
for adventure, which existed at the beginning of the 
century in a generation hardened by such bitter expe- 
riences, and made bold by the brilliant destinies it 
saw before it. It was a time when the country, at 
the sight of great events which seemed to happen 
by a miracle, possessed a vigor, a fire, a confidence in 
the future, an audacity which overcame all obstacles 
and blotted from the dictionary such a word as ‘im- 
possible.” Men and women had the same inspired 
passion, glory. After the storms of the Revolution, 
after the bloodshed of the Terror and the war, peace 
seemed to smile again, and doubtless Hortense de 
Beauharnais nourished happy dreams as she moved 
among the band of warriors, writers, and artists who 
formed the train of the hero of Marengo. Could she 
have foreseen her dark future, the death of her chil- 
dren, the woes of her mother, the soil of France pol- 
luted by foreign armies, her happiness would have 
been marred; but those things were providentially 
hidden. 

Hortense had noticed among the fellow-soldiers of 
the First Consul his aide-de-camp, Duroc, a hand- 
some officer, loyal and chivalrous. At that time 
young women often fell in love with officers whose 
sword was their sole fortune, and not with the thought 


134 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


that by this sword they might become princes or 
kings. ‘Their affection was only warmer because it 
was disinterested. To Hortense it seemed perfectly 
natural to prefer Duroc to the richest bankers or the 
grandest nobles, and at first Bonaparte did not oppose 
his stepdaughter’s choice. He was very fond of 
Duroc; and since he had married two of his sisters 
to officers, there seemed to be no good reason why 
he should not do the same with Hortense. But 
Josephine was absolutely opposed to this marriage, 
which seemed to her a very unsuitable one. She 
wanted to marry her daughter either to some man 
of the old régime, or to a Bonaparte. For a moment 
she thought of giving her daughter to M. de Mun, 
an émigré who had just been permitted to return, 
and was the possessor of a considerable fortune. But 
this plan having fallen through, owing to Hortense’s 
opposition, on the grounds that he had been Madame 
de Staél’s lover in Germany, Josephine was only 
anxious to marry her daughter to Louis Bonaparte. 
The wife of the First Consul was then tormented by 
the vision of divorce, which filled her with terror and 
despair. She thought that by this marriage she could 
firmly unite the Bonapartes and the Beauharnais. 
More than that, she thought that even if she were 
childless, her daughter might not be, and that her 
grandson might one day rule over France; which is, 
in fact, what happened. 

Louis Bonaparte, who was born at Ajaccio, Sep- 
tember 2, 1778, was then twenty-three years old. He 


HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS. 135 


had already attained high honors. Since he was four- 
teen, he had been on his brother’s staff, and he had 
served creditably in Italy and Egypt. Made colonel 
of the 5th Dragoons in 1800, he had distinguished 
himself at Marengo and had taken part in the expe- 
dition to Portugal. He was not only a brave and 
cool officer; he had received a thorough education, 
and displayed an aptitude for literature. His appear- 
ance was agreeable; he seemed gentle and modest. 
So far as appearances went, he promised to make an 
excellent husband. 

Madame Campan, as well as Josephine, did her 
best to give Hortense a good idea of Louis Bonaparte 
and to persuade her to make a match which seemed 
in every way desirable. She began with gentle hints ; 
and knowing that her pupil had no fancy for Louis, 
she appealed to her reason rather than to imagina- 
tion. Suspecting Hortense’s interest in Duroc, she 
congratulated her in advance on resisting this infatu- 
ation: “ You must say to yourself,” she wrote to her, 
“that, after the most rigid examination, you are sat- 
isfied with yourself. I sincerely admire your wisdom, 
my dear child, and I shall not be afraid to say to the 
First Consul that, out of twenty ordinary girls whom 
he may place in the society of a staff composed of 
young men who share his military occupations and 
his glory, who have every soldierly virtue, twenty 
will be moved by the respectful glances and atten- 
tions of these young men. That is the way his two 
sisters made their choice. Apparently, to judge 


136 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


from what your mother has said, that is what he 
feared for you.” 

Without mentioning Louis Bonaparte by name, 
Madame nevertheless referred to him: “ You promise 
me to keep your heart free and ready to accept any 
proposal that shall not arouse an unconquerable 
repugnance. In your decision do not decide from ap- 
pearances alone, but with due regard to qualities and 
sweetness of disposition.” But Madame Campan did 
not yet feel sure of gaining her cause, as these lines 
show: “If your heart is free, you will weigh the ad- 
vantages and the disadvantages ; but if you have any 
prepossessions, you will see merit only in the one you 
have chosen. A woman of intelligence finds the same 
quality in the man she loves, however stupid he may 
be. His ugliness is a charm that outrivals more 
regular beauty. In a word, the illusion of love passes 
away, and the indissoluble tie remains; the husband 
is seen as he is, and he is not to blame, for he is not 
changed. It is wrong to find fault with him; the 
fault lies in the eyes and the prepossessions of the 
wife’s heart.” Obviously, to a young, poetic, roman- 
tic, enthusiastic girl like Mademoiselle de Beauhar- 
nais, such cold and prosaic advice could hardly have 
been agreeable. 

Madame Campan went on; she appealed to motives 
of interest and ambition, I might almost say to reasons 
of state, and ended thus: “Act in such a way that 
your conduct and Eugene’s shall please the First 
Consul and suit his views about establishing you 


HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS, 187 
both. You are one of the closest ties between him 
and your mother; and if you fall into disgrace, you 
must not think that you would readily find consola- 
tion. One may live in a humble position, or even 
feel that it is pleasant to be obscure; but it is painful 
to descend, and this, I assure you, is true.” 

This crafty reasoning had but little weight with 
the young girl, who used to say with melancholy, 
“ My stepfather is a comet, and we are only the tail: 
we must follow him wheresoever he goes, whether it 
be to good or to evil fortune.” She did not let her- 
self be intoxicated by the brilliancy of her destiny, 
and she never forgot the stern lessons of her early 
experience. One day at Malmaison she was late for 
dinner, and the First Consul had sat down without 
waiting for her. Josephine went up to her daugh- 
ter’s room, and seeing that she was busy finishing a 
drawing, asked her if she expected to have to sup- 
port herself by her skill, since nothing could tear 
her from her work. ‘“ Mamma,” answered Hortense, 
seriously, “who can say what may not happen in 
times like these?” 

Greatness had no attraction for this girl, who 
judged human dignities for what they really were. 
The idea of marrying a man who was almost a 
prince and would become a king, did not tempt her 
in the least. But the First Consul was slow at 
coming to a decision. He had nearly promised the 
hand of his adopted daughter to Duroc; and had it 
not been for Josephine’s entreaties, —for she was 


138 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


most anxious to have Louis Bonaparte for son-in-law, 
— Duroc would have been successful. ‘Towards the 
year 1801 the First Consul had sent to him by 
special messenger his commission as general com- 
manding a division. This reached him in Holland, 
on his way to St. Petersburg, whither he had been 
sent to congratulate the Emperor Alexander on his 
accession. Bourrienne tells us that during his ab- 
sence the correspondence of the young lovers passed. 
through his hands by their consent. He adds that 
almost every evening at Malmaison he used to play 
billiards with Hortense, who was expert in the game. 
When he told her in a low voice, “I have a letter,” 
the game stopped, and she ran to her room when he 
gave her the missive. Then the girl’s eyes would 
fill with tears, and it was long before she would come 
down to the drawing-room. She still was hopeful. 
The First Consul said, “It makes no difference what 
my wife does; they suit each other, and they will 
marry. I like Duroc; he is of good birth. I gave 
Caroline to Murat, and Pauline to Leclerc; and I 
can give Hortense to Duroc, who is a capital fellow.” 
But Josephine managed to alter everything. Bour- 
rienne, who was an eye-witness of her wiles, tells us 
how she brought over the First Consul to her opinion 
by her entreaties, her skill, her caresses, and all the 
devices which she well knew how to move. 

Perhaps Duroc would even then have succeeded, 
in spite of Josephine, if he had insisted more strenu- 
ously. But he was modest, with what was really ex- 


HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS. 139 
aggerated delicacy ; he was fearful of being thought 
an ambitious schemer; he was averse to sowing dis- 
sension in the household of his chief, his benefactor ; 
and this dread of annoying the hero he worshipped 
prevailed over every other feeling. Besides, Bona- 
parte had given him to understand that if he married 
Hortense, he should be appointed to the command 
of the 8th Military Division, and that on the day 
after the wedding he should leave for Toulon with 
his wife. The First Consul had added, “I don’t 
want any son-in-law in my house.” This threat sin- 
gularly cooled Duroc’s ardor; for he could not bear 
to think of separating himself from a chief for whom 
he had a boundless admiration which was almost 
idolatry, and, rather than leave him, he abandoned 
his aspirations to the hand of Mademoiselle de Beau- 
harnais. 

The girl, who expected a stronger feeling on the 
part of the man she had chosen, was naturally 
piqued by his determination. She felt that she was 
not loved with a fervor equal to her own, and this 
deception added to her pain. Deprived of Duroc’s 
support, she at last, in despair, yielded to her moth- 
er’s prayers, and her marriage with Louis Bonaparte 
was settled. 


XI. 
MADAME LOUIS BONAPARTE. 


ARENTS who persuade their daughter to a 

marriage of interest or convenience, with no 
concern for her feelings, assume a heavy responsi- 
bility. They should never forget that, while love 
often departs, it never comes, after marriage. What 
more painful than to see a young girl sacrificed to 
calculations against which the soul revolts? There 
are abundant felicitations, and the girl is covered 
with flowers like the victim in ancient sacrifices. 
But during all the festivities, even at the altar, she 
suffers keenly. The music of the ball, the hymns of 
the church, sound to her like a funeral march. In 
her eyes the flowers she wears on her head are already 
as faded and withered as her illusions. Under her 
bridal veil she hides her pallor, perhaps her tears. 
She answers the compliments that are offered her 
with a forced smile. The customary compliments 
sound like irony; and when the last note of the organ 
has sounded, and the altar candles are put out, and 
she is alone, it is not the jewels, or the robes, or a 
fine-sounding name, or a coronet upon her presents, 

140 


MADAME LOUIS BONAPARTE. 141 


—mere empty trifles,—that can soften the bitter 
agony of disappointment. 

Madame Campan wrote to Mademoiselle Hortense 
de Beauharnais: “ You are about to form a tie which 
all Europe will applaud, as Ido. I have some slight 
knowledge of character and of similarities. ... I 
have noticed in you both a conformity of tastes which 
assures your domestic happiness.... You will unite 
two families which ought to form one, and both are 
dear to France. I am sure that you will love each 
other much and always. Louis was not too much 
disposed to matrimony. The First Consul, who 
knows how to remedy every evil, has chosen for him 
the woman who cannot fail to make him happy by 
the qualities which he admires, and one can only 
praise the man who desires such qualities in his wife. 
Soon, my dear friend, I shall cease to write to you 
letters of advice. You will have a competent guide. 
Now the teacher can only rejoice in her work. A 
marriage based on a similarity of position, education, 
and tastes, such as all the world sees here, must be 
the happiest union possible.” 

Unfortunately Madame Campan was mistaken. 
Hortense well knew that her old teacher was wrong 
in thinking that she understood a girl’s heart. Proph- 
ecies destined to be cruelly disproved did not at all 
deceive the sad young woman who resigned herself 
to her fate in silence. Possibly she was afraid to 
confide to her stepfather her repugnance to the pro- 
jected union. Bourrienne tells us that she felt a 


142 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


respectful timidity before the First Consul, and that 
she always trembled when she spoke to him; when- 
ever she wanted to ask anything of him, it was done 
through Bourrienne ; and if there was any difficulty, 
he used to say that Hortense had asked him to make 
the application. “ Little goose!” Bonaparte would 
reply, “why doesn’t she ask me herself? Is she 
afraid of me?” Yes, Hortense was afraid of the 
First Consul, and that is why she did not ask him to 
release her from the union he proposed. Besides, Jose- 
phine, who was not always accurate in her statements, 
had at last persuaded her husband that Hortense and 
Louis were in love, and at Saint Helena he still 

thought that for a moment there had been a feeling 
— of this sort between the two young people. As for 
Louis Bonaparte, as soon as he saw that this marriage 
had been determined by his all-powerful brother, he 
did not even try to oppose it. Every wish of the 
First Consul was regarded as a command. Yet he 
had no more interest in Hortense than Hortense 
had for him. He wrote in his Memoirs, in speaking 
of his marriage, ‘“ Never was there so gloomy a cere- 
mony; never did man and wife have a stronger | 
presentiment of a forced and ill-assorted marriage.” 
At the same time all the numerous courtiers of the 
First Consul and his wife were speaking with enthu- 
siasm of a union which flatterers were praising in 
busy rivalry. 

The civil ceremony took place January 3, 1802, at 
the Tuileries, in the presence of the Bonaparte and 


MADAME LOUIS BONAPARTE. 148 


Beauharnais families. Mass was not yet said in this 
palace, and it was in the house in the rue de la Vic- 
toire, where Josephine lived when she married Napo- 
leon, that the marriage took place. In the beginning 
of 1802, before the Concordat, the church ceremonies 
were always celebrated in private houses, where un- 
sworn priests officiated. This mansion had been 
chosen for the residence of the young couple, and 
there it was that Cardinal Caprara, who was arrang- 
ing the terms of the Concordat with the French goy- 
ernment, gave the nuptial blessing. General Murat 
and his wife Caroline Bonaparte, who had been civ- 
illy married two years before, had not yet had the 
ceremony solemnized before a priest. They took this 
opportunity to have their situation legalized by the 
Church, and on the same day as Louis and Hortense, 
in the same house in the rue de la Victoire, they 
received the nuptial blessing from Cardinal Caprara. 

There was another woman, too, who would have 
gladly enjoyed the same privilege: Josephine. 
Strangely enough, when the First Consul was busy- 
ing himself with the interests of religion and the 
re-establishment of the Church, he set the example 
of the violation of one of its main laws, and, from a 
religious point of view, his union with Josephine was 
an unholy one. She was very anxious to put an end 
to this state of things; but Bonaparte, whether it was 
that he dreaded to call the attention of the public to 
the nature of the bond which attached him to his 
wife, or whether he wished to have a ready excuse 


144 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


for divorce whenever he should wish it, obstinately 
refused to accede to her wishes. This was a mor- 
tification to her which only added to her daughter's 
distress. 

Young women have by instinct the art of conceal- 
ing their emotions ; in this respect they outdo trained 
diplomatists. No one who saw Madame Louis Bona- 
parte in the festivities that succeeded her marriage 
could have guessed the secret torments that agitated 
her. At the ball given in her honor by Madame de 
Montesson, the widow of the Duke of Orleans, she 
had a most enthusiastic success. It was a magnificent 
entertainment, at which all the splendor of the old 
régime reappeared. This assemblage of eight hun- 
dred persons of the highest aristocracy, the brilliant 
uniforms, the rich dresses, the many diplomatists, the 
powdered footmen in silk stockings and scarlet livery, 
the profusion of flowers on the staircase and in the 
rooms, the great abundance of candelabra and chande- 
liers, of diamonds and other precious stones, brought 
back the memory of festal evenings at Versailles. 
The young bride, with her sweet, intelligent face, 
her sensitive mouth, her kindly expression, her fine 
blond hair, her brilliant complexion, her combination 
of creole indifference and French vivacity, aroused 
the admiration of the crowd who gathered about her. 
She wore a peplum over a long tunic; and when she 
danced with the exquisite grace that marked all her 
movements, she was like one of the Hours painted on 
the frescos of Herculaneum. Intelligence, inspiration, 


MADAME LOUIS BONAPARTE. 145 


beauty, shone from her blue eyes with an undefinable 
charm. As one of her contemporaries said, she pleased 
imperatively. The First Consul was delighted with 
the Marchioness de Montesson’s ball. For a fortnight 
nothing else was talked of in the Tuileries drawing- 
room; it set the tone for the consular society. 

Every one there imagined Hortense perfectly 
happy, but she was suffering in silence; in silence, 
for she had too much tact, too much dignity, to com- 
plain. She went to one party after another, always 
agreeable, always pleasant and admired, with a smile 
on her lips and sadness in her heart. She was not 
yet wholly wretched; but that she soon would be, 
she clearly foresaw. Her misfortunes were certain 
to grow with her advance in position. She knew that 
the higher she rose, the more she would suffer. In 
comparison with the period which she spent on the 
throne of Holland, the first few months of her mar- 
ried life were a happy time. At least she was in her 
own country, among her friends, near her mother and 
brother. Later her queen’s crown would be heavy on 
her brow, and every palace she would inhabit would 
be but a new place of exile. Those who saw her at 
the Consular Court, of which she was the fairest orna- 
ment, preserved a tender memory of her irresistible 
charm, as the Memoirs of her contemporaries testify. 
Few women have had to the same extent the gift of 
pleasing. 

In 1802 and the beginning of 1803 Louis Bona- 
parte, who stood in mortal terror of his brother, did 


146 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


not dare to show his whole jealous and quarrelsome 
character. He did not dare to manifest his evil sus- 
picions of the First Consul, and he permitted his wife 
to live at Malmaison, to do the honors there with 
Josephine, or even alone when Josephine was at 
Plombiéres, and to act in the little theatre by the side 
of the gallery. Madame Louis Bonaparte, as Rosina 
in the “ Barber of Seville,” was really admirable. It 
was said of her that “if she had been the wife of the 
First Consul’s aide-de-camp, she would always have 
been applauded for her perfect acting.” She was 
very graceful and charming as the young Andalusian 
girl, with her sweet, saucy air, her bright eyes, and 
her thick black curls beneath a black velvet hat 
decorated with long pink feathers. After one of the 
performances of the “ Barber of Seville,” the First 
Consul wrote to his wife at Plombiéres, July 1, 1803: 
“T have received your letter of the 10th Messidor. 
You say nothing about your health or the effect of 
the baths. I see that you mean to come back in a 
week, and that is a great pleasure to me, for I much 
miss you. You must have seen General Ney, who is 
leaving for Plombiéres; he is to be married on his 
return. Hortense played Rosina yesterday in the 
‘Barber of Seville’ with her usual intelligence.” 
Madame Louis Bonaparte sought in study, in paint- 
ing, and in music, consolation for the sorrows of an 
uncongenial marriage; but in the arts she saw only 
their melancholy side. She was naturally affection- 
ate, and with a husband capable of understanding and 


MADAME LOUIS BONAPARTE. 147 


esteeming her, she would have been perhaps a model 
wife; instead, she was the companion of a man ill 
in body and mind, morose, discontented, uneasy, and 
suspicious. According to Madame de Rémusat, she 
took untiring pains to please the husband whom she 
had the misfortune not to love; she was gentle, sub- 
missive, deferential. But her husband, instead of 
being grateful, was only annoyed. “She is practising 
on me,” he used to say, “in order to deceive me.” 
He let her see his aversion to his stepsister and 
mother-in-law, Josephine, whom he regarded as an 
enemy of the Bonapartes, and whom he did not hesi- 
tate to represent to Hortense in the most odious light. 
Hortense, who had warmly loved her mother, and had 
remained a Beauharnais at heart, was deeply wounded 
by her husband’s remarks, when he would say to her, 
“ You are now a Bonaparte, and our interests ought 
to be your interests ; those of your family don’t con- 


? 


cern you any more,” and when he went on to say, 
that he was determined to take every precaution nec- 
essary to escape the common fate of husbands, and 
that he should not be duped by any attempt to avoid 
him, or by any pretences of affection that were de- 
signed to blind him. 

These odious suspicions filled with indignation 
Hortense’s haughty and sensitive soul. Her brow 
darkened as she saw the cloud gathering, and her 
surprise at the heartlessness that threatened her, 
filled her with disgust for honors that were purchased 
at so high a price. ‘Then terrible insult awaited her: 


148 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


she was tortured by hearing that her pure and noble 
affection for her father-in-law had been misinterpreted, 
and that the First Consul was accused of an unholy 
passion for her, which she returned. This detestable 
calumny only added to Louis Bonaparte’s suspicions, 
and henceforth he was placed in a painful and diffi- 
cult position in regard to his brother. This is what 
Madame de Rémusat says: “The Bonapartes, and 
especially Madame Murat, who had opposed this mar- 
riage with some violence, because, since Joseph’s 
children were all girls, it was evident that if Louis 
had a son, who would be Josephine’s grandson, he 
would at once be a very important child, spread 
abroad the detestable rumor of the intimacy of the 
First Consul with his stepdaughter. The public 
heard it with delight. Madame Murat confided it 
to Louis, who, whether he believed it or not, only re- 
doubled his precautions. Servants were taught to 
spy, letters and notes were opened, all acquaintances 
were frowned on, even Eugene was regarded with 
jealousy; there was a series of violent scenes; the 
poor woman knew no rest.” 

October 10, 1802, Madame Louis Bonaparte gave 
birth, at Paris, to a son, who was to die at the Hague, 
May 5, 1807. Madame Campan at this time wrote to 
the mother about the way in which Louis, in acces- 
sion of amiability, had celebrated the birthday of his 
first-born. ‘“ You were moved by it; your tender 
heart must have been moved, But,—I know you 
well, — did you show it? I am well aware that 


MADAME LOUIS BONAPARTE. 149 


simple, pure souls, that have been well trained, de- 
spise all demonstrations, but sometimes with the best 
motives errors are made.” How could Hortense be 
happy, even by the side of her child’s cradle, when 
she knew that calumny did not spare even this little 
being? when every mark of Napoleon’s interest in 
the infant was to the public additional proof of her 
degradation ? 

Bourrienne, who is generally severe, and especially 
towards the First Consul, denounced these vile insin- 
uations most severely. ‘Iam glad,” he says in his 
Memoirs, “to be able to give the most formal and 
positive lie to these infamous suppositions. They le 
in their throat when they say that Bonaparte had 
any other feeling for Hortense than that of a step- 
father for his stepdaughter. The whole disgusting 
story is a lie, and yet it spread not only throughout 
France, but into every corner of Europe. Is there 
no way of escaping vile gossip?” 

Napoleon was much concerned at these reports, and 
Josephine was horrified. Their happiness at the 
birth of the child was poisoned by the prevalent 
rumor. ‘Poor Josephine,” says Bourrienne, “ paid 
a high price for her glory. Knowing the groundless- 
ness of these reports, I tried to console her by telling 
her how I tried to show their wickedness and falsity. 
But Bonaparte, under the influence of the affection 
of which he was the object, only augmented his wife’s 
grief. He was deluded enough to imagine that the 
whole thing was due to the desire of the country to 


150 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


see an heir; consequently, when he tried to console 
her as a mother, he pained her as a wife, and the 
vision of a divorcee returned. In his wild illusion, 
Bonaparte imagined that France wanted to be gov- 
erned by a bastard, which is a curious way of estab- 
lishing a new legitimacy.” Hortense was not ambi- 
tious. All the plans formed about her baby’s cradle 
only annoyed her. She thought that such calcula- 
tions only lessened the natural feelings, by altering 
its poetry and sanctity. Private life seemed to her 
preferable to that of a queen, and she hated to think 
that in France, or elsewhere, he might become the 
heir to a throne. 

Even at Saint Helena Napoleon recalled these un- 
happy calumnies, and in his “ Memorial” may be 
found this curious passage: ‘Louis was a child 
spoiled by reading Jean Jacques Rousseau. He 
could not be long satisfied with his wife. A good 
deal of unreasonableness on his side and of lightness 
on hers, these were the wrongs on each side.” And 
then he once more defends himself, saying that crim- 
inal intimacies of that sort suited neither his ideas 
nor his habits, and any one who had the slightest 
knowledge of the Tuileries, would understand how 
impossible would be such a revolting crime. ‘“ Louis 
knew what value to set on such rumors; but his vain, 
capricious character was shocked, and he made use 
of them as pretexts.” 

Josephine, who was jealousy incarnate, at times 
thought her husband guilty, possibly her daughter. 


MADAME LOUIS BONAPARTE. atea 


The Bonapartes made the most of these sources of 
dissension, for even under the Republic there flour- 
ished all the intrigues and low ambitions of a court. 
Hortense, who was naturally sentimental and_ ro- 
mantic, felt herself a stranger amid such surround- 
ings. She missed the happy dreams of her youth 
and her swiftly vanished happiness. Very early and 
precocious experience had taught her all that was 
vilest and most cowardly in human nature. This 
generous young woman, whose aspirations had been 
most noble, with her passion for art, her love of the 
ideal, woke from these lofty visions to find herself 
in a low, malicious world. Her health was affected, 
and she needed all her resignation and generosity to 
avoid reproaching her mother for having thus sacri- 
ficed her. Later she will be guilty of unpardonable 
faults, but in defence of these may be pleaded ex- 
tenuating circumstances, because she will yield to 
affection and not to calculations of interest. That 
is the reason for the sympathy that was shown to her 
by her contemporaries of all parties, even when her 
errors were most notorious. Not merely the friends 
of Imperialism, but even the bitterest foes of Napo- 
leon respected her. In 1814 the Emperor Alexander 
treated her with regard and devotion. At about the 
same time, Madame de Kriidener wrote to Madem- 
oiselle Cochelet about the then unthroned Queen: 
“ What news of this angel whom you love so much, 
and to whom my heart nourishes respectful devo- 
tion?” And later, Chateaubriand became the courtier 
of this lady in exile, when she was sanctified by grief. 


XII. 
MADAME JUNOT. 


ADAME JUNOT, who, a few years later, be- 

came the Duchess of Abrantés, was a brilliant 

figure among the young women who formed the Con- 
sular Court. Her high birth, her intelligence, her 
beauty, her marriage, all placed her in the front rank. 
She was the daughter of a very beautiful woman, 
Madame de Permon, a great friend of the Bonapartes, 
and was born at Montpellier in 1784. The Permons 
were a Corsican family, of Greek origin, who also 
bear the name of Comnenus, tradition saying that 
they belonged to the line of the Eastern emperors. 
Madame de Permon, who at Ajaccio had been a 
neighbor of Madame Letitia Bonaparte, always loved 
her as a sister, and it was at her house at Montpellier 
that Charles Bonaparte, the brother of the future 
Emperor, died. After the Revolution she established 
herself in Paris, in a pretty house in the Chaussée 
d’Antin, and there she received those people of the 
old régime who had survived the general ruin. The 
young Napoleon Bonaparte, whom she treated as a 
boy, asked her to marry him, although she was a good 

152 


MADAME JUNOT. 1538 


many years older than he: but she was far from ac- 
cepting his suit; she merely smiled at it. During the 
Directory, Madame de Permon, who was intimate 
with what remained of the society of the Faubourg 
Saint Germain, was one of the most conspicuous 
women in Paris. She might have been taken for the 
sister of her daughter Laure, the future Duchess of 
Abrantés, a charming girl whose grace and _ pre- 
cocious intelligence delighted every one. 

After the 18th Brumaire, Laure de Permon mar- 
ried one of the bravest and most brilliant of the 
First Consul’s fellow-soldiers, the young General 
Junot, who was born at Bussey-le-Grand in 1771. 
He was as chivalrous and adventurous as a knight 
of the Crusades, madly reckless of his money and his 
life, devoted to women, war, and glory. As governor 
of Paris, he occupied a magnificent house, a present 
from the First Consul in the rue des Champs Elyséeg 
(now the rue Boissy d@’Anglas). Their first child, 
a daughter, born in 1801, had for sponsors at its 
baptism Bonaparte and Josephine. Her godfather 
gave her a beautiful pearl necklace; and her god- 
mother, one hundred thousand frances for furnishing 
the house in the rue des Champs Elysées. In the 
spring of 1802 Junot and his wife, for a housewarm- 
ing, gave a ball which was honored by the presence 
of the First Consul. He examined the house from 
cellar to garret, and, pleased to see his companion, 
thanks to his munificence, so comfortably established, 
he stayed at the ball till one o’clock in the morning. 


154 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


That evening Josephine wore in her hair a crown of 
vine-branches with bunches of purple grapes, and 
her dress, embroidered with silver, was trimmed with 
bunches of grapes like those in her hair. Her 
daughter, Madame Louis Bonaparte, danced like a 
sylph. She wore a classical dress, a peplum of crape 
embroidered with silver, and on her head she wore a 
crown of roses. 

In spite of the kindness of the First Consul to 
Junot, Madame de Permon, who continued to think 
herself of higher birth and social position than the 
Bonapartes, assumed a protecting attitude towards 
them, and she was not fascinated by the hero of 
Marengo, whom she had known poor, obscure, and 
young. She was not sparing of her criticisms, doubt- 
less wishing that he would pay his court to her as 
he had already done. She was annoyed, for example, 
that he did not leave his card after spending an 
evening in company at her house, and to soothe her 
feelings her son said, “ But he’s a very great man.” 
“Well, what difference does that make? Marshal 
Saxe was a great man too, but yet he used to make 
visits.” 

Madame Junot inherited her mother’s independent 
and somewhat caustic character. In conversation 
she was able to cope not only with the First Consul’s 
sisters, but even with himself, as we may see from 
this anecdote taken from her Memoirs. 

The scene is at Malmaison, where Bonaparte was 
alone, Josephine having gone to Plombiéres on ac- 


LEE 


MADAME JUNOT 


MADAME JUNOT. 155 


count of her health. Her husband still writes to her 
affectionate letters, but he is certainly less deeply 
in love than he was in the Italian campaign. He 
writes: “We are rather gloomy here, though Hor- 
tense does the honors of the house admirably... . 
I love you as much as I ever did, because you are 
kind and especially lovable. ... A thousand good 
wishes and many kisses.” In fact, the First Consul 
readily consoled himself for Josephine’s absence. 
He liked to be at Malmaison, and he discharged his 
duties as host with much charm; he was pleasant, 
happy, and full of animation. Madame Louis Bona- 
parte, to console him, had brought together a number 
of young and pretty women, among whom was 
Madame Junot, whe had been recently married. 
The husbands of these ladies were for the most part 
detained by their duties in Paris. From time to 
time they came out to Malmaison to dine with the 
First Consul, leaving for Paris the same evening. 
Their wives stayed at Malmaison, occupying the 
little guest-chambers which opened on the long cor- 
ridors on the first floor. Junot stayed at his post as 
governor of Paris and left his wife peaceably under 
the protection of Madame Louis Bonaparte. 

One morning Madame Junot, who had been sleep- 
ing soundly, awoke with a start. Judge of her sur- 
prise, whom did she see near her bed? She fancied 
herself dreaming, rubbed her eyes, and then burst 
out laughing. “ Yes, it is I,” said Bonaparte; “ why 
are you so surprised?” It was evidently very early, 


156 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


and Madame Junot held out her watch before the 
First Consul’s face; it was not yet five o’clock. 
“Indeed,” said Bonaparte, “is it no later than that? 
Well, so much the better; we can talk.” Then he 
pushed an easy-chair up near the bed, sat down 
calmly, and instead of talking ran over a huge bundle 
of letters, on which she saw written in large char- 
acters: “For the First Consul himself, for him 
alone; personal.” Fora whole hour he went through 
his correspondence. The clock sounded. ‘The 
deuce! six o'clock. Good-by, Madame Junot.” 
Then through the bedclothes he pinched her foot, 
and with his papers under his arm went off, hum- 
ming some little song horribly out of tune. 

The next morning the same thing happened. At 
the same hour the First Consul had the maid open 
the door, sat down by Madame Junot’s bed, without 
apologizing for waking her so early, ran over his 
letters and papers, pinched her foot through the bed- 
clothes, bade her good-by, and went off singing. As 
soon as he was gone, Madame Junot called her maid 
and said, “I forbid your opening the door when any 
one knocks at such an early hour.” “ But, ma’am, if 
it’s the First Consul?” ‘I don’t want to be waked 
up so early by the First Consul or any one else. Do 
what I tell you.” That evening Madame Junot 
repeated her orders, and went to bed somewhat dis- 
turbed, wondering if it was advisable for her to stay 
at Malmaison. She loved the First Consul as a sister 
loves a brother but what were his feelings? 


MADAME JUNOT. 157 


The next morning at six she heard steps in the 
corridor, and some one knocked at the door. No one 
opened it. He knocked again. The maid said, “I 
can’t open the door; Madame Junot has taken the 
Key. He went away without any answer, and 
Madame Junot breathed again. In a few moments 
she had fallen asleep, but she was soon aroused again, 
tor the door was opened, and Bonaparte, who had 
entered with a pass-key, appeared: “Are you afraid 
you will be murdered,” he said. “We hunt at But- 
tard to-morrow, you know. We shall start early, 
and to make sure that you are ready, I shall come 
myself to wake you. Since you are not among a 
band of Tartars, you need not lock yourself up as 
you have done. Then, too, you see that all your 
precautions against an old friend don’t prevent his 
getting to you. Good-by!” And he went off, but 
this time he did not sing. 

Madame Junot was in despair. The First Consul 
left her room at the moment when the servant- 
women were passing through the corridor about 
their work. What would they say about a young 
woman who receives visitors at that hour of the 
morning? It would be more than imprudent to stay 
at Malmaison; but to leave would offend the First 
Consul, distress Madame Louis Bonaparte, arouse 
Junot’s suspicions, and give rise to malicious com- 
ments. The poor young woman was sadly perplexed, 
when suddenly she felt two arms embracing her ten- 
derly and heard a well-known voice saying, “ What 


158 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


is the matter, Laure?” This time it was not the 
First Consul, but Junot, who had come out to pass 
the day at Malmaison, and was much surprised to 
find his wife so agitated. “My dear, I want to go 
away; I want to go back to Paris.” “Oh, you may 
be sure that as soon as Madame Bonaparte returns 
from Plombiéres, I shall take you away.” “But 
why not now?” “Now? Before she gets back? 
Nonsense, my dear child.” Madame Junot did not 
insist. Her plan was made. 

That evening Junot dined at the table of the First 
Consul, who was most gay and agreeable, and after 
dinner he took leave to return to the city; for as 
governor he was unable to be absent a single night. 
Before leaving he went up to his wife’s room for a 
moment, and she, by dint of entreaties and endear- 
ments, succeeded in persuading him, in spite of 
orders, to spend the night. 

The next morning Madame Junot awoke just as 
five was striking. Everything was calm and silent 
in the beautiful light of early morning; and as she 
gazed at her husband, and saw the glorious scars 
upon his brow, she felt safe, and thought to herself, 
“T don’t fear anything; he will protect me.” 

At that moment the door was opened violently. 
“What, still asleep, Madame Junot, when we are 
going hunting!” She recognized the voice of the 
First Consul; and he came forward, pushed aside 
the bed-curtain, and stood motionless with surprise 
as his eye fell on his companion-in-arms. Junot 


MADAMI JUNOT. 159 


started up, quite as much surprised. ‘ Heavens, 
general! what are you doing in a lady’s room at 
this hour of the day?” The First Consul answered 
in the same tone, ‘I came.to wake up Madame Junot 
in time for the hunt.... I might find fault, for, 
M. Junot, you are here in disobedience to orders.” 
“General,” said the governor of Paris, “if there ever 
was fault that deserved to be pardoned, it is this. 
If you had seen this little siren for a full hour last 
evening trying to persuade me to stay, I am sure you 
would forgive me.” “Well, I pardon you com- 
pletely,” answered Bonaparte; “and to shc.~ that I 
am not angry, I will let you come to the hunt with us.” 
And with these words he left the room. ‘Upon my 
word,” said Junot, arising, “he is an excellent man. 
What kindness! instead of finding fault, or sending 
me back to Paris. You must confess, Laure, that 
he is really far above ordinary mortals.” 

When they were starting for the hunt, and keep- 
ers, horses, dogs, and carriages were all assembled 
before the castle, and Junot was choosing a horse, 
his wife got into a small barouche with the First 
Consul. Soon they were off, and the following dia- 
logue took place: ‘Madame, you think yourself very 
intelligent, do you not?” “Oh! not extraordinarily 
intelligent; but I don’t think I am a fool.” “A fool, 
no; but a goose. Can you tell me why you made 
your husband stay?” “My explanation will be 
short and clear, general. He is my husband; and 
there is ne offence, I suppose, in a husband’s staying 


? 


160 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


with his wife.” ‘Then you had no other reason 
than your affection for him when you asked him to 
stay?” ‘No, general.” “You are not telling the 
truth. ... I know why you did so: you distrusted 
me, as you should not have done. Ah, you see you 
don’t answer!” ‘And if I had another motive than 
this distrust of which you speak; if I knew that 
your visits at such an hour in the room of a woman 
of my age would compromise me in the eyes of those 
who are here with me, and if I had taken this means 
to stop them” — “If that is the case, why didn’t 
you speak to me? Have I not in the last week 
shown friendliness enough to deserve your confi- 
dence? The next step would have been, doubtless, 
to tell Junot what you had imagined.” ‘“ Heavens, 
general! how could such an idea occur to you, 
knowing him as you do? He is as violent as Othello. 
If I had told Junot all that has happened in the last 
week, neither he nor I would be here this morning.” 
“Won't you, then, believe that I mean you no 
harm?” ‘Certainly, general; I am so sure that 
you do not mean me ill, that I can assure you that 
my attachment for you, which dates from my child- 
hood, and my admiration, are not in the least dimin- 
ished; and there is my hand in token.” 

After a moment’s hesitation the First Consul took 
off his glove and held out his hand to Madame Junot, 
saying, “ You must believe in my friendship for you; 
it depended only on you to make it something solid. 
And yet you wish to leave Malmaison?” “Yes, 


MADAME JUNOT. 161 
general, after the hunt. I have persuaded Junot to 
take me away.” “And when shall you be back?” 
“When I am needed for the play, general; but you 
can dispose of my room; I shall not occupy it any 
longer, I assure you.” ‘As you please. Besides, 
you are right in going away this morning; after this 
stupid business you and I could have no pleasure in 
meeting.” And, opening the door of the barouche 
with his own hand, Bonaparte sprang out, got on a 
horse, and galloped away. That same afternoon M. 
and Mme. Junot were back in Paris. 

This adventure at Malmaison, thus recounted by 
Madame Junot, makes an admirable pendant to the 
adventure at the camp at Barlogue, told by Madame 
de Rémusat. At heart both of these ladies were glad 
to carry the impression that Napoleon felt a tender 
interest in them, and with a little coquetry they 
could have made a conquest of the conqueror. They 
insinuate that their virtue alone forbade this victory. 
However this may be, if we suppose that the First 
Consul’s affection for Madame Junot was purely 
fraternal, — paternal I cannot say, for Bonaparte was 
then but thirty years old,—we must confess that 
were he another Scipio, his conduct was not prudent, 
and that his choice of working-room exposed him to 
a temptation to which even a consul might succumb. 
Madame Junot did well to leave Malmaison. Some 
people pretend that this incident is the reason why 
her husband was never made a Marshal of France, 
but it seems incredible that Napoleon should not be 


162 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


above such petty spite. At any rate, the Duchess of 
Abrantés and the Countess de Rémusat show us how 
Napoleon treated women, with a mixture of rough- 
ness and amiability; gallantry he never showed. In 
fact, he feared them more than he loved them; it 
touched his pride to think that he might be subject 
to their influence. If Madame Junot had fallen in 
love with the First Consul, she would not have been 
his mistress; he would have been her master. He 
might have had a caprice for her; he would never 
have loved her. 

A few days after the incident recounted above, 
Madame Junot went out to Malmaison to make a 
visit to Josephine, who had just returned from Plom- 
biéres. She stayed to dinner, and at ten o’clock 
asked for her carriage. Just as she was about to 
start, a terrible thunder-storm arose. “I sha’n’t let 
you go, in weather like this!” said Josephine, “I 
will go and have a room made ready for you”; and 
she started to the door to give her orders. Madame 
Junot stopped her, on the pretext that she had no 
clothes and no maid. “I will lend you one of my 
nightcaps, and everything that you want,” replied 
Josephine, “and one of my maids shall wait upon 
you. Come, you will stay, won’t you? Besides, how 
could you get through the woods at this hour? It 
wouldn’t be safe. You know how dangerous the 
Bonjéval woods are.” Meanwhile, the First Consul 
was standing by the fireplace, busily arranging a log 
with the tongs, and taking no part in the conversar 


MADAME JUNOT. 163 


tion. As Madame Bonaparte renewed her entreaties, 
he said, still holding the tongs, “ Don’t torment her 
any longer, Josephine: I know her; she won’t stay.” 
If we have dwelt perhaps too long on this anec- 
dote, it has been to give a definite notion of the way 
in which these Memoirs of the Duchess of Abrantés 
are written. Doubtless they bear traces of the haste 
in which they were composed; they contain many 
errors, and are inexact; many of the conversations 
are more fictitious than real, and belong to romance 
rather than to history; there is a good deal of pad- 
ding, and much ore by the side of the gold. But in 
spite of these faults, there is a charm and abundant 
life and animation in this collection of the pictures 
of so many illustrious persons. The Duchess de- 
scribes a play that she has seen from the boxes. 
When she describes the Parisian drawing-rooms, of 
which she was one of the main ornaments, she can 
say “et quorum pars magna fui.” If her Memoirs 
had been more formally written, they would have 
been less agreeable reading: their faults, their care- 
lessness even, only add to the charm. They are like 
an easily flowing conversation, in turn serious and 
idle, sad and gay, ironical and enthusiastic. That is 
the way a great lady talks whose smile and tears 
are always charming, who makes delicate fun of 
absurdities, and is eloquently indignant with petti- 
ness and meanness. The reader perceives her love 
for everything fine, for letters, for love, for glory. 
Like Madame de Rémusat, she was an eye-witness 


164 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


of the reaction in Parisian society against the glories 
of the Consulate and the Empire, but she reacted 
against this tendency. Her friend, the great novelist 
Balzac, but for whom, it is said, she would never 
have written the Memoirs, strongly urged her to 
remain faithful to her Memoirs, and sometimes to rise 
into the region of poetry. Hence the pages of real in- 
spiration that intersperse the pages of trifling anec- 
dotes and boudoir gossip. And when the Duchess 
recalls the springtime of her life, those happy hours 
when France was great and glorious, her language 
glows with the fire of enthusiasm. ‘“ My country,” 
she writes, “my beloved country! My country! 
There is a magic charm in the letters composing this 
and which is like the name of the being we love. .. . 
When I recall those glorious days — the laurels where- 
of were fed with the blood of him whose name I bear 
—my soul, overwhelmed by so many disasters, both 
public and private, my heart, wearied by the long 
silence of songs of war and victory which I heard in 
my cradle, in my youth, in all my life until the days 
of our shame, — my soul, my heart, I say, are moved 
anew, and I glow with the pride which used to make 
us raise our heads and say, ‘I too am French.’” 

Is not this fitting language for a noble woman, 
who, in 1814, when completely ruined, could have 
secured for her eldest son the very rich succession of 
Aeken, if she had agreed to make him change his 
nationality, but who, preferring for him the name of 
“Frenchman” and poverty, refused? Junot had 


MADAME JUNOT. 165 


been in possession of an income of more than a mil- 
lion of francs, and his widow was penniless; nothing 
was left her but her intelligence and her pride. Why 
is there not a new edition of the eighteen volumes 
of her Memoirs and of the six volumes of her 
“History of the Parisian Drawing-rooms,” which 
abound with original and amusing anecdotes, and 
with sketches and portraits drawn by a firm and 
graceful hand? Madame Amet, the worthy daugh- 
ter of the Duchess of Abrantés, who was born at the 
beginning of the century, and remembers Napoleon 
and Josephine, her godparents, could better than any 
one prepare the notes and the Introduction which 
would recall her mother’s charming person. At once 
an artist and a fine lady, a woman of letters and 
of the drawing-room, generous to a fault with her 
money and her intelligence, as cheerful in poverty as 
in wealth, as much admired by Parisian society in 
the humblest apartment as in her splendid mansion 
of the rue des Champs Elysées, a noble nature, rising 
above vulgar ambitions and petty calculations, the 
Duchess of Abrantés occupies a place apart in the 
company of the celebrated women of the Consulate 
and the Empire. It is with real emotion that one 
reads the verses which Victor Hugo dedicated to 
her memory. The woman who inspired that poet, 
Balzac, and so many great writers with such devoted 
friendship, was certainly no ordinary woman, 


XIII. 
THE TE DEUM FOR THE CONCORDAT. 


EN’S decisions often rest on many grounds; 

and often when they are thought to be moved 
only by calculation, they are moved quite as much 
by sentiment. This was the case, if we are not mis- 
taken, with Napoleon, when he brought about the 
restoration of religion in 1802. Above all things, he 
was a politician; but besides being a politician, he 
was a Christian. Doubtless his faith was not very 
profound; he did not observe the forms of religion, 
and he felt the influence of the eighteenth century 
and of the Revolution. But in spite of Voltaire, he 
had learned in his infancy to respect Catholicism: 
perhaps he was not perfectly sure that the Roman 
Church was true; but he was less certain that it was 
false. The feeling which led him to say on his 
death-bed: “ Not every one who wants to be, is an 
atheist,’ makes itself clear with more or less dis- 
tinctness, as the circumstances determine, through- 
out his career. As Thiers said, “It is intelligence 
that discovers intelligence in the universe; and a 
great mind is better capable than a small one of see- 

166 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE CONCORDAT. 167 


ing God in his works.” Bonaparte was not simply 
a deist; there was in his character a deep stamp of 
Catholicism. ‘“ When we were at Malmaison,” says 
Bourrienne, “and used to walk in the avenue that 
led to Rueil, the sound of the village church-bell 
often interrupted our conversations. He would stop 
in order not to lose a bit of the sound, which de- 
lighted him. It used to move him so deeply that he 
would say: ‘That reminds me of my early years at 
Brienne. I was happy at that time.’ Then the bell 
would stop, and he would resume his mighty reve- 
ries.” The sound of the bell at Rueil was not with- 
out its influence on the Concordat. 

According to the “Memorial,” Napoleon said at 
Saint Helena: “It would be hard to believe the resis- 
tance I met to restoring Catholicism. I should have 
met with less opposition if I had unfolded the ban- 
ners of Protestantism.” Edgar Quinet considers that 
an erroneous assertion. He says that if the First 
Consul had tried to introduce into France any relig- 
ious innovations, he would have been in direct and 
open contradiction with himself; and that Catholi- 
cism alone agreed with the form and the logical cohe- 
rence of his plans. ‘“ Examine closely his thought,” 
adds Quinet, ‘and you will observe that his ideal was 
the Empire of Constantine and Theodosius, and this 
tradition he inherited from his ancestors, like all the 
Italian Ghibellines. So far from inclining towards 
the religious emancipation of the individual con- 
science, he always had a vision of a pope whose 


168 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


emperor and master he should be,—a conception 
which is exactly that of the Ghibellines and the com- 
mentators of the Middle Ages. From this combina- 
tion of the Italian and the French genius grew the 
extraordinary logic by which he so easily drove back 
France to the political institutions of Charlemagne. 

This man, who, in so many respects, was ex- 
tremely modern, in others resembled a ruler of the 
Middle Ages, a Carlovingian.” 

It is certain that he started from the idea that 
France having become great by the cross and the 
sword, it was by the cross and the sword that it was 
to preserve its greatness. And is it not, indeed, an 
absolute law of history that a people preserves its 
force only by remaining faithful to the principles by 
which it attained it? 

“Every society,” says Thiers, “demands a religious 
belief and form of worship.... What better thing, 
then, can a civilized society demand than a national 
religion, founded on the true feelings of the human 
heart, in harmony with the rules of high morality, 
consecrated by time, and which, without intolerance 
or persecution, brings together, if not all, at least 
the great majority, of the citizens, at the foot of an 
ancient and revered altar?” And he goes on with 
fervor: “It existed, this religion which had brought 
under its dominion all civilized peoples, had formed 
their morals, inspired their songs, furnished the sub- 
jects for their poetry, their pictures, their statues, left 
its stamp on all their national memories, marked with 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE CONCORDAT. 169 


its sign their banners in turn vanquished or victo- 
rious. It had disappeared for a moment in a great 
storm that swept over men’s minds; but when that 
storm had passed, the necessity of belief returned, 
and this was again found in every soul, the natural 
and indispensable faith of France and of Europe. ... 
What more necessary, more inevitable, in 1800, than 
to lift up the altar of Saint Louis, of Charlemagne, 
and of Clovis, which had been for a moment over- 
thrown?” 

Yet the First Consul needed rare perseverance for 
the accomplishment of such a task. There are periods 
when hypocrisy is the fashion, but there are others 
when the opposite quality prevails —I mean the fear 
of man. This was the case with a large part of 
French society. The country people remained Chris- 
tian and Catholic; but in the aristocracy, in the 
middle classes, and especially in the army, Voltairian 
ideas had made great ravages. It needed all Bona- 
parte’s authority to silence the sarcasms of his gen- 
erals; and it was not by persuasion, but rather by a 
discipline of iron, that he collected them about the 
altar of Notre Dame, as if for a review or a parade. 

No resistance could discourage the First Consul, 
because he was convinced that Catholicism, so far 
from being dead, as some people imagined, was still 
living in the habits, the civilization, and the inner 
life of some who called themselves its bitterest ene- 
mies. He did not think its principles incompatible 
with those of the Revolution, as it began, while still 


170 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


unstained by excesses, and he remembered that Pope 
Pius VII. had said in a homily, December 25, 1797, 
when he was only Bishop of Imola: “ Be good Chris- 
tians, and you will be good democrats. The early 
Christians were full of the spirit of democracy.” 
Pius VII. sent to Paris Cardinal Consalvi, who, 
after long and laborious negotiations, concluded with 
Joseph Bonaparte, aided by Crétet, Counsellor of 
State, and Abbé Bernier, the Concordat of July 15, 
1801. It was presented to the legislative bodies 
along with the laws concerning the Catholic worship, 
and the various Protestant forms, April 8, 1802, and 
was adopted without discussion. Ten days later, on 
Easter Sunday, the First Consul determined to have 
a great religious ceremony take place at Notre Dame, 
and one which also had its worldly side. 

Bonaparte wished on the same day to ratify at the 
Tuileries the treaty of Berlin, and to be present, at 
Notre Dame, at the mass and Ze Deum for the estab- 
lishment of the Concordat. He left his palace in 
great pomp. Officials of all kinds and a brilliant 
staff escorted him. Josephine, who accompanied 
him, was also numerously attended by the prettiest 
and most fashionable ladies of Paris. The troops 
_formed two lines between the palace and the cathe- 
dral. Everywhere the crowd assembled to see the 
First Consul, whose red coat attracted every eye. On 
reaching Notre Dame, he descended slowly from his 
carriage, and was received at the door by the Arch- 
bishop of Paris, who presented him with holy water, 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE CONCORDAT. 171 


and led him under a canopy to the place reserved for 
him in the choir, near the high altar. Behind him, 
the generals, in full uniform, stood throughout the 
long ceremony. The members of the Senate, the 
legislative body, and the Tribunate, were placed on 
each side of the altar. 

At that time there was in Notre Dame a superb 
roodloft, of Gothic construction, and most pictur- 
esque. It was from this that Madame Bonaparte and 
her suite witnessed the ceremony. There were about 
eighty of these ladies; more than two-thirds of them 
were under twenty, many were not over sixteen. A 
great number were very pretty. The Duchess of 
Abrantés recalls this solemn day with great satisfac- 
tion in her Memoirs, and describes it as one would 
do it nowadays. ‘I still remember,” she says, “ Ma- 
dame Murat’s dress, with her pink satin hat, sur- 
mounted by a tuft of feathers of the same color, and 
how fresh, rosy, and spring-like her face appeared 
beneath it. She wore a dress of India muslin, with 
wonderful openwork embroidery, and lined with pink 
satin matching her hat. Over her shoulders was a 
mantilla of Brussels lace, with which her dress was 
trimmed. No mundane festival was more magnifi- 
cent than this religious one; and while the thoughts 
of the pious turned to their Creator, it was in His 
creatures that the free-thinking generals most inter- 
ested themselves, and many of them, standing behind 
the First Consul, and so in no dread of his eyes, 
acted unbecomingly. 


172 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 
“Many young women,” the Duchess goes on, 
“took their degrees in beauty on that day. There 
were many who were known to be pretty and charm- 
ing, but there was also a large number who could 
scarcely be distinguished at the vast entertainments 
of Quintidi [the fifth day of the decade], while at 
Notre Dame, with the sun blazing through the col- 
ored glass, these young faces shone with marvellous 
beauty ; nothing was lost. The First Consul noticed 
it and spoke about it that same evening.” The rood- 
loft of Notre Dame, April 18, 1802, is a subject that 
may be recommended to an historical painter. 

The ceremony was really magnificent, as became 
a nation which is both religious and warlike. The 
clatter of arms, the sound of the organ, the salvos of 
artillery, which from daybreak had rattled every 
window, the chants which rose beneath the vaulted 
roof of the old cathedral, the smell of powder min- 
gling with that of the incense, the gilded uniforms by 
the side of the rich chasubles of the priests, —all this 
pomp delighted the populace of Paris, which is always 
eager for great shows. It was observed that luxury 
and elegance had made great strides since General 
Bonaparte had made his solemn entrance into the 
Tuileries. Then there had been in the procession 
almost nothing but cabs with their numbers hidden 
by bits of paper, and now there were handsome pri- 
vate carriages, as fine as those of the old régime, 
following the First Consul’s coach. The servants of 
the principal officials were for the first time in livery ; 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE CONCORDAT. 173 
and the crowd, instead of denouncing this return to 
monarchical ways, took a childish delight init. That 
evening the members of the Diplomatic Body dined at 
M. de Talleyrand’s, the Minister of Foreign Affairs ; 
there was an illumination and a concert in the Tui- 
eries garden, and in the palace Cardinal Caprara, 
the Archbishop of Paris, and the highest ecclesiastics 
dined at the table of the First Consul, who had a 
long and friendly talk with the First Consul, con- 
gratulating himself on the great success of the day. 

There was only one flaw, and that was the attitude 
of a great many of the officers. Paris was full of 
them; they found the calm of peace unendurable ; 
and since they were still faithful to the principles of 
the Revolution, they were indignant with the reac- 
tion which was led by Bonaparte. This was the 
feeling of especially the old officers of the Army of 
the Rhine, who had always been jealous of the Army 
of Italy, and who had gathered around the discon- 
tented generals, like Moreau. The venerable General 
de Ségur has left in his Memoirs traces of the im- 
pression made upon him and many of his comrades by 
the events of April 18, 1802. “I heard the clamor, 
but without sufficiently disapproving its malignity; at 
Notre Dame I saw their indignation on the occasion 
of the Ze Deum for the Concordat. On that day I 
did not sufficiently condemn Dalmas’s retort to Bona- 
parte: ‘Yes, it was indeed noble mummery! The 
only pity is that there weren’t present about a thou- 
sand of the men who got killed in overthrowing what 


174 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


you are re-establishing.’ The brutal impertinence 
which was uttered by many other generals at the 
Tuileries, and even within Napoleon’s hearing, dis- 
pleased me without doubt, but less than it should 
have done. I acknowledge that in the cathedral my 
attitude was not the most reverent, and I remember 
that as the procession was passing the Palais Royal — 
on its way home, near a group of officers with whom 
I was standing, our disdainful bearing in response 
to the repeated salutes of the First Consul could not 
have satisfied him.” 

Bonaparte was not made uneasy by these signs of 
opposition, for he had determined to crush any show 
of resistance. Congratulatory addresses on the Con- 
cordat reached him from every quarter. ‘“ You will 
see,” he told Bourrienne, “ how much I shall get out 
of the priests.” The Royalists lost their only claim 
to popularity, and the hierarchy of the Church was for- 
mally placed in the hands of the authorities. There 
appeared at this time in the windows of every book- 
shop an engraving representing the triumph of re- 
ligion in France over the atheism of the Revolution; 
the cross was upheld by Bonaparte’s sword, and below 
was this inscription: “The 28th Germinal, year X. 
of the French Republic (April 18, 1802), Easter 
Sunday, by the triumphant arm of Napoleon Bona- 
parte, First Consul of France, religion arises from 
the abyss into which impious atheists had hurled 
it; Cardinal Caprara, legate, with plenipotentiary 
powers from the Pope, to the French government, 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE CONCORDAT. LS 


celebrated mass in the cathedral church of Notre 
Dame, in presence of the three Consuls and all the 
regular authorities.” At the same time a sonnet was 
eirculated, which ended thus : — 


He restores to France a solemn harmony, 
Makes peace with all the world besides, 
Placing it in triumph at the feet of the Eternal. 


The followers of Voltaire had retorted by secretly 
circulating a caricature of the First Consul, repre- 
senting him as drowning in a basin of holy water, 
with bishops pushing him back into the water with 
their crosiers. In spite of these isolated sarcasms, 
the religious reaction was complete; the offices were 
empty on Sunday; the Archbishop of Paris celebrated 
mass at the Tuileries; the Bishop of Versailles, in 
the presence of the authorities, solemnly consecrated 
the chapel of the School of Saint Cyr; and advantage 
was taken of the moment to inaugurate a monument, 
already constructed, to Madame de Maintenon, with 
this pious inscription : — 

She established Saint Cyr, to the edification of France; 
Her tomb was destroyed, her corpse insulted. 


Youth laments this, and gratitude 
Raises a new tomb to her avenged shade. 


The clergy harmonized with the government; and 
the First Consul presented to a number of bishops 
an episcopal ring, in token of his satisfaction with 
the return of peace. 

Chateaubriand’s “ Genius of Christianity” appeared 


176 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


at the moment when the Concordat was announced, 
and, as M. de Villemain has said, ** No book has ever 
appeared at a happier moment, or was ever helped 
by more varied influences, by the political situation, 
by blind faith, by interest, or by more conflicting pas- 
sions.” Later, in his edition of 1828, he said, ** The 
‘Genius of Christianity’ was full of the spirit of the 
old monarchy; the legitimate heir lay, so to speak, 
beneath the sanctuary, the veil of which I lifted, and 
the crown of Saint Louis hung above the altar of the 
God of Saint Louis.” This phrase did very well for 
the reign of Charles X., but certainly Chateaubriand 
would not have written it in 1802 or 1808. Then, 
he dedicated his book to Bonaparte, and to Bonaparte 
he addressed this enthusiastic eulogy: “In your des- 
tiny we see the hand of Providence, who had chosen 
you from afar for the accomplishment of his mighty 
plans. Whole peoples are regarding you; France, 
augmented by your victories, has placed its hope in 
you, since it is on religion that you establish the 
State and your own prosperity. Continue to hold 
out a helping hand to thirty million of Christians 
who pray for you at the foot of the altars you have 
restored to them.” Bonaparte said that he had never 
been better praised. 

So the First Consul appeared to France and to 
Europe in the ight of the protector and restorer of 
religion; but, strangely enough, at the moment when 
he was so much occupied with matters of the Church, 
talked theology like a doctor, and was trying to give 


THE TE DEUM FOR THE CONCORDAT. aly ar ¢ 


peace to men’s consciences, he made no attempt to 
bring his own situation into conformity with the rules 
of the Church, and notwithstanding his wife’s earnest 
solicitations, his marriage continued to be merely a 
civil one. While Josephine appeared with the maj- 
esty of a queen in the roodloft of Notre Dame, she 
was, from a religious point of view, not his legal 
wife. Does not this state of affairs show the con- 
fusion which the Revolution had wrought, and the 
very strange anomalies resulting from it? Madame 
Bonaparte was not very pious, but she was not with- 
out religious feeling; and she suffered as a Christian 
anda woman. ‘The ceremony at Notre Dame, recall- 
ing, as it did, the memories of her happy infancy, 
filled her with apprehensions regarding her present 
situation, which seemed so enviable. 


XIV. 
JOSEPHINE AND THE ROYALISTS. 


T the present time the Faubourg Saint Ger- 

main has lost its ancient character. Its famous 
mansions have disappeared; boulevards run through 
it in every direction. The great families who used 
to control it have made numerous alliances with the 
middle classes. They have broken away from their 
traditions by giving allegiance to Napoleon I., to 
Louis Philippe, and to Napoleon III., and with their 
prejudices they have lost the feeling of caste which 
was their strength and their pride. 

At the beginning of the century, the French nobil- 
ity presented a very different aspect. It remained 
standing on a heap of ruins. But a few years sepa- 
rated it from the period of its greatest prosperity and 
splendor, and it had shown abundant energy amid 
the catastrophes and terrible trials it had passed 
through. As General de Ségur has put it, what 
other body, attacked in the same way, beaten and 
scattered, could have shown itself so compact, so 
persistent in its sentiments, and have displayed an 
equally firm resistance to such misfortunes ? 

178 


JOSEPHINE AND THE ROYALISTS. 179 


To return home under false names or with false 
passports, to be obliged to solicit repeatedly the 
removal of their names from the list of émigrés, to 
find their houses and lands in the possession of 
strangers, to pass every day the spot where their 
relatives and friends had been put to death, was 
surely a sad fate. But the nobles, if they were un- 
happy, did not think themselves humiliated. Their 
sufferings raised them in their own estimation. Their 
magnificent mansions in the Faubourg Saint Germain 
no longer belonged to them, but they were uninjured, 
and every one pointed them out as the property of 
their old owners. Always proud and convinced of 
their rights, they regarded the Revolution as a pass- 
ing evil, and the purchasers of the national property 
as thieves. They said that their emigration, so far 
from being a crime, had been their only safety; and 
they added that if those who left had been robbed, 
those who stayed at home had been put to death. 
As to the words liberty, the rights of the people, 
they only sneered at them, and all the more because 
the government treated as fanatics the men who 
still fanned the passions of the Revolution. 

Unable to use their swords or their rapiers, the 
émigrés returned to France, with sarcasm on their 
lips, and avenged the work of the executioner’s axe 
by their dexterity with a light but deadly weapon, — 
ridicule. Ruined as they were, they yet preserved 
in their distress the privilege of setting the fashion. 
They ironically compared the rude ways of the new 


180 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


men with the graceful and delicate manners of the 
old régime, and pursued with their jests the Turcarets 
of the Revolution, the upstarts, the men who, to 
employ Talleyrand’s expression, did not know how to 
walk on a waxed floor. The First Consul and the 
army itself were not spared in their sarcasm. In their 
eyes, as General de Ségur said, the immortal exploits 
of the Republican soldiers were nothing but triumphs 
of brute force, a sort of savage, false, illegitimate 
glory, a usurpation of old and imprescriptible rights. 
“Such,” he adds, “were the perfectly natural feelings 
of the survivors of this cruelly decimated class. Their 
influence was diminished, but they preserved the feel- 
ing of caste which is the most persistent and the 
most powerful of all forms of party-spirit; for family 
and social relations, hereditary habits of rule, and a 
sensitive regard for points of honor, pride, and preten- 
sions to exclusiveness, become a second nature, com- 
posed of all the interests and all the passions which 
most surely control men’s hearts.” 

In spite of their haughtiness, the émigrés were 
obliged to draw nearer and nearer to Bonaparte ; but 
in 1802 they contented themselves with paying their 
court to Josephine, in obtaining through her the 
restitution of all or part of their property, or per- 
mission for a relation or friend to return to France. 
Women like to protect, and to confer rather than 
receive a kindness. It was with keen pleasure that 
Josephine found herself sought after by people of the 
old régime, who still refused to bow before her hus- 


JOSEPHINE AND THE ROYALISTS. 181 


band, and who used to come to call on her in the 
morning, in her apartment on the ground floor of the 
Tuileries, at the same time boasting that they had 
never set foot on the grand staircase of the palace. 
These delicate distinctions are amusing, and it was 
clear to every intelligent observer that the nobility 
was anxious to move slowly, but that soon it would 
be very glad to appear in the rooms of the powerful 
dispenser of places and wealth. Bonaparte might 
have taken umbrage at the attitude of these people, 
who undertook to draw a line between his wife and 
him; but he knew men, and he foresaw all the flat- 
tery and obsequiousness of the Empire after the 
Concordat. Already men of the most diverse parties 
met within the walls of the Tuileries, on the ground 
floor, —the members of the old régime, the great lords 
and fine ladies of the court of Versailles; on the first 
floor, the generals, the ministers, the members of the 
Convention, the men of the Revolution. The time 
was drawing near when they all were to meet in the 
same vestibule and ascend the same staircase. Bona- 
parte was convinced that soon he should be able to 
mingle in his palace marquises with regicides, and 
establish a rivalry of interested homage and flattery 
to be rewarded by gold and honors. Hence he per- 
mitted Josephine to pass her time with Royalists, 
and congratulated himself on this aid to his plans of 
fusion and unity. 

In fact, there were two men in Bonaparte, —the 
aristocrat and the democrat. By birth, education, and 


182 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


his start in the army, he was an aristocrat; later, he 
became a democrat, more from policy than from con- 
viction; and if not really, at least apparently, he had 
identified himself with the most ardent Republican 
enthusiasm. This double nature betrayed itself in 
his words and his deeds. Jacobins and Royalists were 
successively the object of his anger. The Legiti- 
mists filled him alternately with sympathy and with 
contempt. In the presence of great nobles he remem- 
bered his coat-of-arms; when with his soldiers, he 
used to say, “ My nobility dates from Arcole and Ma- 
rengo.’ In his heart he dreaded the Bourbons, and 
had an instinctive fear of their return. The former 
royal pupil, the officer of the armies of his very 
Christian Majesty, recalled the white flag amid the 
triumphs of the tricolor. Louis XVIII., forgotten, 
poor, abandoned, as he was, disturbed him; and the 
omnipotent First Consul would have gladly treated 
with this Pretender, whose only weapon was a princi- 
ple. He was proud of his relations with the Bourbon 
monarchies of Spain and Naples, and he was flattered 
by the thought that he had set a descendant of Henry 
IV. and Louis XIV. on the throne of Etruria, Just 
as a tribune often exults in the conquest of a great 
lady, so this Republican general gloried in his victory 
over the French nobility. 

Yet there were in the Faubourg Saint Germain 
many causes of uneasiness. If he was less in awe of 
the men because he could readily punish them, he 
feared the women, for they could more easily defy his 


JOSEPHINE AND THE ROYALISTS. 183 


power. An outbreak would not have disturbed him, 
but the opposition of a drawing-room was a more 
serious matter. He stood more in fear of a woman 
of character like Madame de Staél than of a legion 
of demagogues. A thousand swords were less alarm- 
ing than one fan. Already he had a close watch 
kept on the few newly opened drawing-rooms of the 
Faubourg Saint Germain, notably on that of the 
Duchess of Luynes, whose husband, a few years later, 
gladly received his nomination as senator. 

As for Josephine, she was never more at her ease 
than in the society of the émigrés, for with them she 
felt a harmony of ideas and hopes. She liked their 
manners, their language, even their prejudices. She 
was flattered by their respect and devotion, and felt 
herself rehabilitated in the eyes of good society by 
her sympathy with the adherents of the white flag. 
Thiers has said that she ought rather to have crushed 
them beneath the weight of her pride; but how could 
she have done this when she had shared their feel- 
ings, their grief, their sufferings, and but for the 9th 
Thermidor would have died on the guillotine? 

The Legitimist opinions of the former Viscountess 
of Beauharnais were at once a matter of feeling and 
of calculation. By her childish and youthful memo- 
ries, by the horror with which the crimes of the 
Revolution filled her, by the terror she had felt of 
perishing on the guillotine like her first husband, 
Josephine was a Royalist. In her mind all author- 
ity other than that of a king was, if not precisely 


184 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


usurpation, at any rate a perilous risk. A Monk 
seemed to her greater than a Cromwell, or even 
than a Cesar. She would have been delighted to be 
the wife of a Constable and to become a Duchess by 
the will of Louis XVIII. A stool would have pleased 
her better than a throne, because she thought a stool 
firm, and a throne frail. As the wife of a Constable, 
and a Duchess, she felt that she would be in no 
danger of divorce, and she would not be told that 
since she gave her husband no heir, she was imperil- 
ling the future security of France. She would not 
be tormented by all sorts of dynastic ideas and by 
family rivalries which her adversaries encouraged in 
order to ruin her. She would not fear attempts like 
the plot of the infernal machine; the priests would 
give their blessing to her marriage, and before God 
and man she would enjoy in peace her husband’s 
glory and a position safe from all perils of war and 
revolution. Hence she yearned to see her husband 
restore legitimacy as he had already restored religion. 

Bourrienne said in his Memoirs: ‘“ Under the con- 
sular government, the Royalist committee was not in 
a state of active conspiracy; it confined itself rather, 
if I may say so, to persuasion. All its efforts tended 
to the circumvention of the persons who were sup- 
posed to have the most influence with the First 
Consul, in the hope of inducing him to desire the 
return of the Bourbons. It was especially against 
Madame Bonaparte that the batteries were directed.” 
The émigrés knew Josephine’s character, and they 


JOSEPHINE AND TITE ROYALISTS. 185 


appealed in turn to her vanity, her feelings, her in- 
terest, and her imagination. They told her that by 
persuading her husband to bring back the King she 
would do a great deed, that she would be the protect- 
ress, the guardian angel, of the heir of Saint Louis; 
that the throne and the altar would owe her every- 
thing, that she would place on her head an undying 
aureole, and that Bonaparte would be the greatest of 
men. Lamartine expressed the same thought in his 
celebrated ode. 

Josephine lent a ready ear to these persuasions, 
but Bonaparte laughed in his sleeve at those simple 
beings who fancied that a man of his character would 
be contented with the second place. He had, more- 
over, arranged a plan for controlling the nobility. 
As Madame de Staél has said, he took good care not 
to put an end to the uncertainty of the émigrés by 
laws defining their privileges. “He restored one 
man to his property; from another he took them for 
all time. A decision in the restoration of estates 
reduced one to poverty, while to another it gave 
even more than he had owned. Sometimes he gave 
the property of a father to a son, that of an elder 
brother to a younger brother, in accordance with his 
confidence in their devotion to his person. He made 
his favor of importance, not for any frivolous pleasure 
it might give, but for the hope of seeing one’s country 
again, and of recovering at least a part of one’s pos- 
sessions. The First Consul had reserved to himself 
the power of disposing on any pretext of the fate 
of all and each.” 


186 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


The Senatus-consultum of April 26, 1802, had, it is 
true, proclaimed an amnesty to the émigrés; but an 
exception was made against those who had accepted 
positions in hostile armies, or who had remained in 
the service of French princes, as well as against the 
ecclesiastics who had refused to tender the resigna- 
tion required by the Pope. The same act had guar- 
anteed the national property to its purchasers. But 
a question had arisen in respect to the property of 
émigrés, which had not been sold after confiscation, 
and remained intact in the hands of the government. 
‘To this class belonged a quantity of woods and forests 
of enormous value. It was decided that these unsold 
properties, instead of returning to their owners, should 
vest in the State. It was by restoring or keeping 
them, as he might choose, that Napoleon did what he 
pleased with the French nobility. The nobles who 
submitted to his government were enriched; the others 
remained poor. This result accorded with his general 
policy. He protected the Faubourg Saint Germain, 
a school for his chamberlains. He was aristocratic 
and religious, but in order to control the aristocracy 
and the clergy. He was a monarchist, but on one 
condition — that he should be the monarch. 


XV. 
THE END OF THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE. 


T is not Bonaparte who courted Fortune; it is 
rather she that made all the advances and yielded 

to him. He sneered at the hot demagogues who so 
speedily abjured their political principles, and it was 
with malicious satisfaction that he said to Bourrienne, 
‘“ All my virtuous Republicans have only to put a little 
gold lace on their coats, and then they are my men.” 
Everything was ready for the rule of the new Cesar. 
He made a pretence of refusing the diadem, and said 
at a reception, to a deputation of the Tribunate, May 
T, 1802, “I desire no other reward than the love of 
my fellow-citizens. ... Death itself will have no 
terrors for me, if my last looks may see the happi- 
ness of the Republic as secure as its glory.” Would 
not one who heard him imagine that he was making 
a sacrifice in assuming the supreme power? The 
Republic, which was so sincerely loved by the army, 
which had called forth such generous devotion, so 
many heroic efforts, on the field of battle, now ex- 
isted only in name. [Bonaparte was a real monarch, 
absolute and acknowledged. With more justice than 

187 


188 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Louis XIV.—for since the day of that King cen- 
tralization, the great force of absolute power, had 
made enormous advances — he could say, “ The State, 
it is I.” 

The senators, whose servility was to weary him as 
that of the senators of ancient Rome wearied Tibe- 
rius, were eager to know his secret heart. What did 
he want? A prolongation of his powers? Consu- 
late for life? A king’s crown? An emperor's dia- 
dem? He had but to say the word, and it would be 
the law of France. Since he affected a modesty 
which was far from his thoughts, the Senate decided 
to win his gratitude by prolonging his powers for ten 
years, and he pretended to accept this offer most 
thankfully. In reality, however, he could not under- 
stand their want of perspicacity, unimportant as it 
was; for their decision was made May 8, and two 
days later the Council of State, paying it no atten- 
tion, declared that the French people should be con- 
sulted on this question: “Shall the First Consul be 
made Consul for life?” Any offence that the Senate 
might take with such a procedure was to be allayed 
by sending to that body the results of the voting. 
It should have the pleasure of announcing the issue 
of the plebiscite — what more could it ask? 

Bourrienne tells us that when all was completed 
for the Consulate for life, except the voting, which 
could have but one result, Bonaparte went to Mal- 
maison the middle of May to spend a few days. 
* That was his habit,” adds his secretary, “after any 


END OF THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE. 189 


event outside of the usual course of government. 
There he used to reflect on what he had done; and 
since, in some mysterious way, his boldest acts were 
always crowned by success, he acquired more confi- 
dence in his good fortune and became more enthusias- 
tic in the sort of worship he offered to audacity. So 
long as he was moved by passion, he saw only the end; 
but that once reached, he examined all the obstacles 
he might have met.” Now when he was about to 
obtain the Consulate for life, which he had so ar- 
dently desired because it seemed to him the only 
step yet to be taken before ascending the throne, he 
strolled through the paths of Malmaison, thinking of 
the incredible results which justified his dreams. In 
this moment of pride and omnipotence, we must be- 
Vieve that his mind was haunted by the vision of the 
legitimate monarchy. Louis XVIII., without a treas- 
ury, without an army, without resources of any sort, 
the importunate and despised guest of the crowned 
heads of Europe, made him uneasy. He would have 
paid enormous sums, have made the greatest sacri- 
fices, to get from this Pretender the renunciation 
of rights which seemed to him formidable, as if he 
already had a presentiment of 1814 and 1815. The 
head of the house of Bourbon had written to him, 
September 7, 1800: “We can assure the peace of 
France. I say we, because I need Bonaparte for 
that; and he, too, cannot do it without me.” And 
to this Bonaparte had replied: “Sir, I have received 
your letter. I thank you for the kind things you 


190 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


say. You ought not to wish to return to France; 
you would have to step on half a million corpses. 
Sacrifice your own interest to the peace of France; 
history will give you credit for it. I am not insen- 
sible to the misfortunes of your family. I will gladly 
contribute to the easing and soothing of your retire- 
ment.” But in spite of addressing the descendant 
of Louis XIV. simply as sir, and of his protecting 
tone to the heir of so long a line of kings, he was at 
heart annoyed by the existence of this exile. This 
is clearly shown in the following conversation be- 
tween the First Consul and his secretary in the park 
of Malmaison in May, 1802: “*Bourrienne, do you 
think that the Pretender to the crown of France 
would give up his rights, if I were to offer him a 
large indemnity, or even a province in Italy?’ ‘I 
don’t think he would. In fact, it is extremely un- 
likely that the Bourbons will come back into France 
so long as you are the head of the government, but 
they must regard their return as probable. ‘Why 
so?’ ‘The reason is simple. Don’t you see every 
day how your prefects conceal the truth from you, 
and flatter your wishes, in order to get influence over 
you? and are you not angry when at last you get at 
the truth?’ ‘Well?’ ‘Well, it must be just the 
same with the agents of Louis XVIII. in France. It 
is in the order of things and in human nature, that 
they encourage the Bourbons with the hope of a re- 
turn, if for nothing else, to show their skill and use- 
fulness.’ ‘That is true. But don’t be uneasy; I am 


END OF THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE. 191 


not afraid of them. Yet there may be something to 
do about it. I shall think of it; we shall see.’ ” 
Meanwhile Josephine was in serious distress. She 
remembered not without alarm the prediction of a 
sorceress: “ You will sit on a throne, but not for 
long,” and the height she reached made her uneasy. 
In May, 1802, she said to a Councillor of State: “I 
do not approve all the plans that are projected, and 
I said as much to Bonaparte, who listened attentively 
to me, but his flatterers soon made him change his 
mind. The generals say that they did not fight 
against the Bourbons to set up a family of Bona- 
partes in their place. I do not regret that I have 
given no children to my husband, for I should trem- 
ble for their fate. I shall remain devoted to Bona- 
parte’s destiny, however perilous it may be, so long 
as he has the regard and friendship for me which he 
has always shown. But the day he changes, I shall 
withdraw from the Tuileries.” As Thibaudeau has 
said in his Memoirs: ‘In France and in Europe every- 
thing conspired for the sacrifice of the rights of the 
people in favor of the First Consul. At court one 
woman still resisted the mighty current; she alone 
was not blinded by all the illusions of greatness. 
She was incessantly pursued by the wildest alarm 
and the gloomiest forebodings. Indeed, Madame 
Bonaparte perhaps foresaw her fall in her husband’s 
elevation to the throne; but a delicate instinct, which 
in women often takes the place of perspicacity, pre- 
vented her seeing without horror a man reigning 


192 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


over the ruins of the Republic who owed to the 
Republic his greatness and glory.” 

Amid the obsequious senators who were busily 
flattering the new Cesar, Josephine perhaps feared 
the dagger of a Brutus. Saint Cloud, to which she 
was soon to move, was not an agreeable place for her, 
and she regretted leaving that charming spot for new 
palaces and castles full of gloomy memories. Had 
not Saint Cloud brought unhappiness to Henry III. 
to Henrietta of England, to Marie Antoinette? And 
why should she assume a crown? Josephine said to 
Roederer, “* Bonaparte’s true enemies are those who 
fill him with ideas of a dynasty, of hereditary succes- 
sion, of divorce, and a second marriage.” She was as 
modest and disinterested as Bonaparte’s sisters were 
haughty and ambitious; in her heart there was no 
place for anger or pride. The part she played was 
not that of a Lady Macbeth; for a year and a half 
she had been entreating her husband not to let him- 
self be tempted by the crown. At first he had 
reassured her; and once when towards the end of 
1800 she sat in his lap, and said tenderly, “I beg of 
you, Bonaparte, don’t be King,” he answered, laugh- 
ing, “ You are absurd, Josephine. It’s all those old 
dowagers of the Faubourg Saint Germain, and espe- 
cially Madame de La Rochefoucauld, who got up those 
stories; you tire me, leave me alone.” But she had 
not influence enough to stem the course of destiny, to 
stop the chariot of the triumphant hero. Bonaparte 
thought that the duty of a woman was to spin 


END OF THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE. 198 


and knit, and he sent her to her domestic cares, 
while he went on in his proud and victorious career. 
Fouché, who was stoutly opposed to these monarchical 
plans, said to her: “Madame, keep quiet. You will 
only annoy your husband, to no purpose. He will be 
Life Consul, King, or Emperor, — whatever any one 
can be. Your timidity wearies him; your advice 
wounds him. Let us stay in our place, let things 
happen which neither you nor I can prevent.” 

How slight is human wisdom, and how right 
Persius was when he exclaimed, “Oh, the cares of 
men, and the emptiness of things!” (0 curas homi- 
num, O quantum est in rebus inane /) 

Bonaparte’s fame exceeded that of the greatest. 
France was at his feet; he called forth from the 
whole world a long cry of surprise and admiration, 
and yet he did not suspect with what truth he 
answered in a somewhat melancholy train the con- 
gratulations of the senators. ‘Fortune has smiled 
upon the Republic, but Fortune is fickle, and how 
many men on whom she has heaped favors have 
lived a few years too long! The interest of my glory 
and that of my happiness would seem to have 
marked the limit of my public life.” These words 
are very touching. Let us imagine Bonaparte dying 
as he uttered them. What a flawless hero! what 
incomparable glory! No murder of the Duke of 
Enghien! No war with Spain! No retreat from 
Russia! No continental blockade, resulting in the 
English control; no persecution of the Pope, ending 


r” 


194 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


in the triumphal entry of the Sovereign Pontiff into 
the eternal city ; no seas of blood turned out, not for 
the aggrandizement of France, but, alas! for its 
diminution ; no invectives, no imprecations, no flight 
in the disguise of an Austrian officer; no foreigners 
encamped in Bois de Boulogne or on the hill of 
Montmartre; no Waterloo, no Saint Helena; but 
France all-powerful, invincible, defying the jealousy 
of the kings of Europe, and amid a glorious peace in 
enjoyment of its natural frontiers,—that is what 
would have happened if this man, who was looked 
upon as indispensable, had died at the dawn of his 
power and glory. I well remember the closing lines 
of the “ King Gidipus” of Sophocles : — 


From hence the lesson learn ye, 
To reckon no man happy till ye witness 
The closing day; until he pass the border 
Which severs life from death, unscathed by sorrow. 


But in 1802 who could predict 1812, 1814, 1815, 
1821? Bonaparte was illustrious; his retinue more 
magnificent than that of the former kings. His col- 
leagues, the other Consuls, did not dare sit in the 
same carriage. When he went to preside at the 
Senate, he was alone, majestic in a state carriage 
drawn by eight horses. He breathed an odor of 
incense which intoxicated him. Joyous and tri- 
umphant, he declared that “the liberty, the equality, 
the prosperity of France, shall be secure from the 
caprices of fate and the uncertainty of the future; 


END OF THE TEMPORARY CONSULATE. 195 


that the best of people shall be the happiest, as it 
deserves; and that he, satisfied with being called by 
order of those from whom all power emanates, to 
restore justice, order, and equality, will see the ap- 
proach of his last hour without regret and without 
fear of future generations.” Henceforth he is called 
by that magic name, Napoleon! He chooses for his 
festival the festival of the Virgin Mary, as if he 
wished his glory to gain some of the splendor of the 
Queen of Heaven, and to be a sort of Assumption. 
August 15, 1802, he let his star shine above the 
towers of Notre Dame, forty feet above the two plat- 
forms. In the middle of this symbolic illumination 
shone the sign of the Zodiac, under which is the 
birthday of this predestined man, and all night his 
bright star shone over the buildings of the great 
capital. 


ATG L: 


tHe CONSULATE FOR LIEGE: 


L 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD 


UINS seen by moonlight or in the dim light of 

a dark, rainy winter day, are perhaps less sad 

than when seen embowered in green at the dawn of 
a bright day. Then it seems as if nature, in its 
serene calm, was smiling at men’s vain plans, and 
protesting in its immortal majesty against their follies 
and their miseries. ‘This is what I felt August 15 
last. The weather was superb, the sun magnificent, 
the sky without a cloud. I had decided to walk out 
to Saint Cloud, and I remembered that it was there 
where long ago the 15th of August was the ruler’s 
holiday. At that time the courtyard of the palace 
was full of fine carriages adorned with coats-of-arms ; 
powdered lackeys were running about; valuable horses 
were pawing the ground; and within the palace there 
was a continual coming and going of officers, diplo- 
matists, chamberlains, equerries, and officials, all 
brilliant in uniforms and decorations. In the even- 
ing the palace and the park were illuminated; at a 
distance lay the great capital, like a giant sunk in 
floods of light. There was no lack of protestations 

199 


200 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


of devotion, of flattering speeches so ingenious that 
they seemed sincere; for there are many who know 
how to give to the wiles of ambition and interest the 
appearance of a natural expression. 

All is changed within a very few years. Who 
thinks now of the Emperor’s festival? Two or three 
hired carriages brought to the palace gate a handful 
of foreigners, of tourists, who, guidebook in hand, and 
a field-glass over their shoulder, came to look, with 
perhaps more scorn than pity, at the ruins which bear 
witness of our misfortunes and our discords. At a 
distance, there is a certain illusion about the palace; 
a nearsighted man would never suspect the ravages 
of fire and petroleum. But what a sight greets one 
on getting near the red and damaged walls! One of 
the guards uttered some sad reflections on this man- 
sion which he had seen so magnificent and which is 
to-day so gloomy and so devastated: it is the differ- 
ence between a woman brilliant with youth, beauty, 
glory, and the skeleton of the same woman. One 
would say that buildings really have a soul, and that 
when they are a mere stone corpse, their soul yet sur- 
vives. Ruins call forth the same thoughts as a 
tomb. 

The park is as fine as ever; the old trees are as 
majestic, the flower-beds as lovely, the turf as green, 
the shrubs as delicious, the waterfalls as musical, as 
in other days. The birds still sing; but one misses 
the music of the bands, the bugle-calls, and the roll- 
ing of the drums. 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 201 


I sat down on a stone bench and thought of all 
that had taken place in the palace in ruins before me. 
In the full blaze of noonday the phantoms of the past 
appeared as if it were black midnight. I thought of 
Henrietta of England, who was so rich in graces, 
and died, “like the flower of the field,” in the night 
of June 30, 1670, “a disastrous, a terrible night, when 
suddenly there came, with a burst like a clap of thun- 
der, this astounding news: Madame is dying, Madame 
is dead.” Seven years later there is a great festival 
at Saint Cloud, October 10, 1677; the Great King is 
received by his brother with extraordinary solemnity, 
at the inauguration of the Gallery of Apollo, deco- 
rated by Mignard. 

Towards the end of the next century Marie 
Antoinette visited Saint Cloud in the summer of 
1790. It was a moment of rest before the last march 
to the grave, and then this charming woman bade 
farewell to the flowers, the country, the natural scen- 
ery which she loved so much. I recalled the sole 
interview between the Martyr Queen and Mirabeau ; 
it took place July 8, 1790, in the park, at the circle 
in the top of the Queen’s private garden. It was a 
memorable meeting between a man of such marvel- 
lous genius and eloquence and a woman of her station 
and beauty. I fancied that I heard him, as he left 
her presence, saying in an outburst of enthusiasm, 
“Madame, the monarchy is saved.” 

Then there was Saint Cloud on the 19th Brumaire, 
year VIII. The Council of the Ancients was sitting 


202 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


in the Gallery of Apollo, and the Five Hundred in 
the orange-house. I recalled Bonaparte saying to the 
Ancients: ‘“* Remember that I am supported by For- 
tune and the God of War.” Then I saw him in the 
orange-house, threatened by daggers, pursued with 
imprecations. I saw the grenadiers invading the hall, 
and I heard the roar of the drum drowning the voices 
of the representatives of the people, as it drowned 
that of Louis XVI. Where now is the orange-house 
where took place the scene which settled the fate of 
France? The guard told me that it was situated 
where the flower-beds now are, on the right of the 
palace. But it was destroyed a few years ago, and 
not the least trace of it is left. 

It was in the Gallery of Apollo that the First 
Empire was proclaimed in 1804, and in the same 
gallery the Second Empire was proclaimed forty- 
eight years later. After Waterloo, Blucher slept at 
Saint Cloud, in Napoleon’s bedroom. He lay there, 
all dressed, amusing himself by dirtying with his 
boots the bedclothes and curtains of his old conqueror. 
It was in the red drawing-room that the surrender 
of Paris was signed in 1815; and in the same room, 
July 25, 1830, Charles X. and his unwise ministers 
signed the fatal orders. July 27 the old King was 
quietly playing whist in the drawing-room which 
looks out on the main courtyard, and from which 
Paris may be seen on the horizon. From one of the 
windows a servant saw a distant fire. It was the 
guardhouse of the Place de la Bourse that was burn- 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 2038 


ing. The servant called the attention of one of the 
gentlemen in waiting to the smoke and flame. He 
went up to the King; but since Charles X., although 
he had been told of the troubles that had broken out, 
went on quietly with his game, the gentleman did 
not dare to break the rules of etiquette by addressing 
him. That same evening, M. de Sémonville said to 
the old King, “Sire, if your Majesty does not revoke 
the orders, if there is no change of ministry, to-mor- 
row perhaps there will be no king, or dauphin, or 
Duke of Bordeaux.” “I don’t agree with you,” 
answered Charles X. “My brother, Louis XVI, 
perished by weakness. At any rate, I am ready to 
appear before my God.” July 80 the legitimate 
kingdom had ceased to exist. The Duke of Ragusa 
arrived in consternation at Saint Cloud. “Sire,” said 
he, “the battle is lost. A ball intended for me killed 
the horse of an officer at my side. I should prefer 
death to the sad sight I have just witnessed.” That 
same evening the Duke of Angouléme, by advice 
of the generals, who all declared that they could 
not be responsible for the safety of the royal family, 
had the King awakened from sound slumbers. The 
brother of Louis XVI. got up, and sadly left Saint 
Cloud with his unhappy family, to depart for his 
last exile. 

The palace knew brilliant days under the Second 
Empire. There was a succession of royal guests and 
of magnificent entertainments. The bed-chamber of 
Marie Antoinette, of Josephine, of Marie Louise, of 


204 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 

the Duchess of Angouléme, became the ministers’ 
council-hall. Louis Philippe’s study became the 
chamber of the Empress Eugenie. The young 
Prince Imperial had the rooms on the ground floor 
which were formerly occupied by the King of Rome, 
by the Count of Artois, the Duchess of Berry, and 
by Madame Adelaide. From it the King of Rome 
used to start in his gilded carriage, drawn by two 
white sheep. Saint Cloud was the favorite resort of 
Napoleon III. Thither he returned July 16, 1859, 
after the Italian campaign, and thence he departed 
for the fatal war with Germany. It was from Saint 
Cloud that, on the 9th of May, 1812, Napoleon I., 
amid the great men of his court, like Darius among 
his satraps, started in great pomp for a no less unfor- 
tunate war—that with Russia. The departure of 
Napoleon III., July 28, 1870, was much more modest. 
His proclamations were stamped with melancholy, as 
if he wished to warn the nation by calming its frenzy 
rather than by adding to it. An ovation was prom- 
ised him if he would go through Paris, but he refused. 
Even before the conflict began he was overwhelmed 
by a sort of prophetic depression. In 1859 he started 
solemnly for the war, amid the excited transports of 
the multitude, but then he had confidence in his star; 
in 1870 this trust had vanished. He went, pursued 
by presentiments which, however mournful they may 
have been, were outdone by the reality. In going 
by rail on the right bank from Paris to Versailles, 
there is to be seen on the left, in the park of Saint 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 205 


Cloud, a little rustic rotunda close to the line. There 
it was that, July 28, 1870, at ten o’clock in the morn- 
ing, the unfortunate Emperor and the Prince Imperial 
got into the train which took them straight to Metz. 
Would not one say that they were the victims of a 
real fate ? 

During the siege, the National Guards upon the 
ramparts saw on the horizon a large fire; it was the 
palace of Saint Cloud, burning like a woodpile. Some 
say it was ignited by shells from Mont Valérien, and 
others maintain that it was drenched with petroleum 
by the Germans and burned by them. This unfortu- 
nate palace could not be saved by the proud motto of 
the brother of Louis XIV., Alter post fulmina terror, 
or by the poetic reminiscences of Marie Antoinette, 
or by the legendary greatness of the Empire. Thus 
perished so much grandeur. It is written in letters 
of fire, like those of Belshazzar’s feast. The Gallery 
of Apollo, all resplendent with gold, the mythologi- 
cal decorations, the frescoes of Mignard,—all these 
wonders perished in the fiery furnace. The sky was 
as red as blood. The whole hill which overhangs the 
left bank of the Seine, and is surmounted by the lofty 
trees of the park, from the palace to the rising ground 
of Sévres, is lit by the flames, and this fire is but the 
forerunner of others still more lamentable, because 
they were lit, not by German, but by French hands. 

All these various visions passed before my eyes 
like the scenes of a play, now bright, now gloomy, 
and I felt myself distressed by this multitude. Now 


206 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


it may be worth while to see what it is under the 
Consulate. The Saint Cloud we have to study is 
the Saint Cloud of 1802, of 1803, of 1804, in all its 
majesty, the abode of power and glory. Bonaparte 
had just been elected Consul for life by 3,568,885 
votes out of 8,577,259. The Senate had presented 
him with its expression of “the confidence, the ad- 
miration, and the love of the French people.” That 
is the official language. <A statue of Peace had been 
erected, holding in one hand the laurel wreath of the 
victor, and in the other the decree of the Senate, 
bearing witness to posterity of the nation’s gratitude. 

Saint Cloud was the summer residence of the new 
sovereign; for what other name can be given to a 
ruler whose powers are for life, and who has the right 
of appointing his successor to suit himself? The 
former monarchs had no such power, for they had to 
accept for heir the man born to the throne. Malmai- 
son was a private castle; Saint Cloud a royal one, in 
which all the pomp of a monarchy could be displayed. 
The staircase was in the middle of the castle as one 
enters from the central court; it was adorned with 
marble columns, and built by Micque, Marie Antoi- 
nette’s architect. Up one flight was the main hall 
with its painted ceiling on which was History writing 
the life of the brother of Louis XIV. A door to the 
right led into the room of Mars, an anteroom of the 
Gallery of Apollo. The roof, the covings, and the 
space over the doors of the hall of Mars were decorated 
by Mignard, as was also the Gallery of Apollo. Over 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 207 


the entrance was the birth of Apollo and Diana; 
in the middle of the arch, Apollo, the god of day, 
driving his chariot; to the right and left were the 
four seasons ; and at the end of the gallery, above the 
windows, was Parnassus. Gilding, pictures, flowers, 
allegorical figures, medallions in bronze and cameo, 
and other works of art completed the wonderful deco- 
ration of this beautiful gallery. At the end was the 
door into the room of Diana, where Mignard had 
painted his masterpieces. On the ceiling the goddess 
of night; in the covings the toilette, the hunt, the 
bath, and the sleep of the huntress Diana. Returning 
through the Gallery of Apollo and the room of Mars, 
we entered the room of Venus, where Lemoyne had 
painted on the ceiling Juno borrowing the cestus of 
the Queen of Love; beyond was the room of Truth, 
so called from a ceiling-picture of that goddess, 
painted by Antoine Coypel; further still were the 
rooms of Mercury and of Aurora, likewise adorned 
with allegorical paintings. 

All these majestic halls, with their mythological 
names and decorations, appealed to Bonaparte’s 
southern imagination and recalled the familiar remi- 
niscences of pagan antiquity. He liked to go 
through the brilliant Gallery of Apollo, which had 
brought him good luck on the 19th Brumaire, and 
which was for Saint Cloud what the Gallery of Mi- 
nors is for Versailles. It was thickly crowded every 
Sunday after mass — cardinals, bishops, senators, 
councillors of state, deputies, tribunes, generals, am- 


208 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


bassadors, magistrates, Royalists, Republicans, all the 
most distinguished French citizens, as well as for- 
eigners were there together, and on an equal footing. 
The First Consul spoke to almost every one, and 
often their private affairs were discussed. The most 
astute confined themselves to paying their court to 
him. Then they went to Madame Bonaparte, who 
had taken the apartment of Marie Antoinette in the 
left wing. The most distinguished foreign ladies 
were presented to her, among whom were the Zamo- 
iskas, the Potockas, the Castel-Fortes, the Dorsets, 
the Gordons, the Newcastles, the Dolgoroukis, the 
Galitzines. When Bonaparte permitted the mem- 
bers of the Diplomatic Body to pay their homage to 
him, had he not the airs and language of a mon- 
arch? And did not Josephine receive like a queen 
or empress ? 

From that time a rigid etiquette prevailed at Saint 
Cloud. General Duroc, the governor of the palace, 
maintained a table for the officers and ladies-in-wait- 
ing and for the aides. The First Consul dined alone 
with his wife, but twice a week he invited officials to 
his table. The military household consisted of four 
generals in command of the Consular Guard ,— Gen- 
erals Lannes, Bessiéres, Davoust, and Soult; and 
seven aides, — Colonels Lemarois, Caffarelli, Caulain- 
court, Savary, Rapp, Fontanelli, and Captain Lebrun, 
son of the Third Consul. There were four prefects of 
the palace, — Messrs. de Lugay, de Rémusat, Didelot, 
and de Cramayel; and four ladies of the palace, — Ma- 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 209 


dame de Lugay, Madame de Talhouet, Madame de 
Rémusat, and Madame de Lauriston. The prefects 
of the palace had charge of the service, the etiquette, 
and the performances. The ladies had to be in wait- 
ing upon the wife of the First Consul and to make 
the presentations. ‘There was so complete a return 
to the customs of the Court of Versailles that it was 
seriously proposed to require that powder should be 
worn by every one who came to the castle. But the 
First Consul could not bring himself to wearing it, 
and so every one was left free to do as he pleased 
about it. Every one was given to understand that 
the First Consul preferred to see powder and ‘“ bag- 
wig”; so most of the foreigners, and especially the 
English, who wore their hair short and without pow- 
der, used to attend his receptions with whitened hair 
and a bag fastened to their coat-collar. 

The chapel at Saint Cloud was not unlike that at 
Versailles. Bonaparte required atheists to be pres- 
ent at mass on Sundays. Iam reminded of what La 
Bruyére has said: “The great people of the nation 
meet at a certain hour in a temple which they call a 
church; at the end of the temple is an altar conse- 
crated to their God... . The grandees form a large 
circle at the foot of this altar, and stand with their 
back to this altar, and the holy ministers with their 
faces turned towards their King, who is to be seen 
kneeling on a tribune, and to whom they seem to 
direct their attention and devotion. There is a sort 


210 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


of subjection in this custom, as if the people were 
adoring the King, and the King adoring God.” 

The appearance of the theatre which Bonaparte 
had built in 1803, beyond the orange-house, completes 
the resemblance to monarchical ways. No one can 
applaud or weep or laugh without the master’s signal. 
The Diplomatic Body was formally invited to the rep- 
resentations. The First Consul sat in the front of a 
box on the right of the stage; behind him stood the 
aides and officers in waiting. Opposite was the box 
of Madame Bonaparte with her ladies. The other 
boxes in the first balcony were occupied by the mem- 
bers of his family, the ministers, the ambassadors, and 
their wives. Every one stood up when Bonaparte and 
Josephine came in and bowed to the audience. Some- 
times the large door at the back, through which the 
scenery was brought in, would be thrown open, show- 
ing the brilliantly illuminated gardens. 

The park of Saint Cloud, which is nearly a thou- 
sand acres in extent, is most beautiful with its vener- 
able trees, its green turf, its picturesque eminences. 
The fountain rises eighty-eight feet; the arcades are 
of most graceful construction, and the celebrated cas- 
cades where the water falls down a series of high 
steps are most brilliant in the blazing sun or under 
the colored lights of an illumination. The lantern of 
Demosthenes, the little Greek building which used to 
stand on the highest point of the park, commanding 
a lovely view of the river below, was especially 
charming. It would have been hard to find a more 


y 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 211 


beautiful view, a grander panorama. Obviously a 
place like this was full of attractions for the young 
enthusiastic officers in the suite of the First Consul, 
and everywhere he appeared as a sovereign who was 
also a general. All this display of grandeur had a 
military quality. He carried no sceptre, but some- 
thing better, —his sword. The hero of the Pyramids 
is greater than the civil ruler; his glory outshines his 
rank. 

Bonaparte’s working-room at Saint Cloud was a 
large room, lined with books from floor to ceiling. 
There he used to sit on a small sofa covered with 
green watered-silk, near the fireplace, above which 
were placed two bronze busts of Scipio and Hannibal. 
Behind the sofa, in the corner, was the desk of Méne: 
val, his secretary, who had taken Bourrienne’s place 
By the side of this room was a little drawing-room 
where the First Consul used to receive Talleyrand, 
his Minister of Foreign Affairs, and where he gave 
private audiences. In this drawing-room he had 
placed a portrait of Gustavus Adolphus, his favorite 
hero. The only ornament in his bedroom on the 
ground floor, commanding a view of the garden, was 
an antique bust of Cesar. 

Bonaparte understood how to satisfy his visitors 
with a word or a smile. In the Memoirs of General 
de Ségur is a good description of those glorious days 
at Saint Cloud. Ségur had at first been opposed to 
Bonaparte, from his feeling of caste and his devo- 
tion to the Republic. On the day of the Ze Deum 


VAL THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


on account of the Concordat, he had been one of the 
band of discontented officers; but the hero of Marengo 
said a few kind words to him and he was at once 
overwhelmed with happiness and enthusiasm. 

“Citizen Ségur,” Bonaparte began, with a loud 
voice, in the Gallery of Apollo, among a number of 
senators, tribunes, legislators, and generals, “I have 
appointed you on my personal staff; your duty will 
be to command my body-guard. You see what con- 
fidence I place in you, you will deserve it; your 
ability and your worth promise swift promotion.” 
Then he passed along the gallery, through the double 
line of courtiers, to the tribune in the chapel where 
he heard mass. Ségur was in an ecstasy. “Drunk 
with joy,” he says, “‘and scarcely conscious of touching 
the earth, I hastened through the brilliant halls, and 
took possession of them. I returned and stopped at 
the place which I now see before me, where I had 
just heard those gratifying words; I paused and re- 
peated them a hundred times. It seemed to me that 
they made me a partaker of the glory of the con- 
queror of Italy, Egypt, and France. I do not know 
what was the real weather of that autumn day (Octo- 
ber 27, 1802), but it remains in my memory as the 
brightest, most beautiful day of the year that I had 
yet seen.” 

All the contemporary writers describe this period 
as one of real enchantment. France is never so happy 
as when it is exultant with pride; no nation endures 
so ill misfortune or mediocrity. Nothing but the 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 913 


highest position will satisfy it. Bonaparte, who 
thoroughly understood the French character, ruled 
it through its vanity. He continually said, “ You are 
the happiest, the best, the most famous, the greatest 
of nations!” And France believed him; for the 
country was like a beautiful woman gazing with 
rapture into a mirror. With this spirit in prosperity, 
there exists the impossibility of believing in the 
remotest chance of defeat; its self-confidence amounts 
to infatuation. What is true of the country is also 
true of Bonaparte after his election to the Consulate 
for life. He imagined himself faultless, infallible, 
invincible, and this confidence he communicated to 
others. Louis XIV. in all the brilliancy of his youth 
never received such adulation. 

But twelve years later Saint Cloud presents a dif- 
ferent spectacle. The Prussian horses are drinking 
in the waters of the park, which is converted into a 
camp, and invaded by a horde of foreigners. A pack 
of dogs which follows Blicher everywhere occupies 
and ruins the boudoir of the Empress Marie Louise. 
The books of the library are strewn helter-skelter over 
the floor. July 18, 1815, Prince Metternich wrote to 
his daughter: “I have dined with Blicher, who has 
his headquarters at Saint Cloud. He inhabits this 
castle as a general of hussars. He and his aides 
smoke where we have seen the court in its greatest 
splendor; I dined in the room where I have spent 
hours talking with Napoleon. The army-tailors are 
quartered where we used to see the plays, and the 


214 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


musicians of a regiment of riflemen were catching the 
goldfish in the large basin under the castle windows. 
As I was going through the great gallery, the old 
marshal said to me, ‘ What a fool the man must be to 
go running off to Moscow when he had all these fine 
things at home!’ As I looked down from the balcony 
at the great city, with all its domes shining at sunset, 
I said to myself, ‘ This city and this sun will glow 
like this when there is nothing remembered of Na- 
poleon or of Blicher, and certainly nothing of me.’ 
The immutable laws of nature are always the same, 
and we, poor creatures, who think so much of our- 
selves, live only to make a show by our perpetual 
movement, by our dabbling in the mud or in the 
quicksand.” 

Bossuet was right when he spoke of that “ foolish 
wisdom, ingenious in self-tormenting, skilful in self- 
deceit, corrupt in the present, vain in the future, 
which by much reasoning and vast efforts, only wastes 
itself to no purpose, collecting things which the wind 
scatters.” When from the heights of Saint Cloud the 
two Napoleons looked upon their féte-days at the 
great capital all ablaze with illuminations, at the 
Panthéon, Saint Sulpice, the Tuileries, the Louvre, 
the bright dome of the Invalides, at the bursting fire- 
works, could they have anticipated the other flames 
which a few years later were to destroy their two 
palaces? Nowhere is the emptiness of human glory 
more strongly impressed upon the beholder than by 
these ruins. Whenever the imagination is fascinated 


THE PALACE OF SAINT CLOUD. 215 


by the splendor of imperial pomp, by the memory of 
so many victories, so many wonders, a hidden voice, 
like that of the slave in the ancient triumphs, seems 
to murmur those two names, Saint Cloud and the 
Tuileries. 


Ibe 
THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 


N history, as in art, there is always infatuation 
and fashion; and reputations, like the pictures 

of the masters, rise or fall according to the time or 
the circumstances. Glory is eclipsed, like the sun. 
Napoleon who was perhaps more famous at the Resto- 
ration and during the reign of Louis Philippe than in 
that of Napoleon III., now finds possibly more to con- 
demn than to praise him. In the time of Louis XVIII. 
and Charles X., the opposition, to whatever party 
it belonged, made out of Napoleon’s glory a weapon 
against the Bourbons ; and the most advanced liberals, 
with an enthusiasm which was perhaps not quite sin- 
cere, chanted the praises of the new Cesar. It was a 
Republican poet, Béranger, who was the most popular 
singer of an emperor, and in the days of July, it has 
been said that there were as many Bonapartists as 
Orleanists among the insurgents. Louis Philippe 
felt bound to preserve the memories of the Empire 
even in the palace of Louis XIV., and to place David’s 
picture of the coronation of Napoleon at the top of 
the marble staircase. He sent his son, the Prince of 

216 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. Paks 


Joinville, to Saint Helena to bring back the ashes of the 
hero of Austerlitz. On the threshold of the Invalides, 
the Prince said to his father, “Sire, I present to you 
the body of Napoleon, which I have brought back to 
France in obedience to your orders.” Louis Philippe 
answered, “I receive it in the name of France.” 
Napoleon’s sword was brought in on a cushion. The 
King took it from the hands of Marshal Soult and 
gave it to General Bertrand, the courtier of Saint 
Helena, saying, “ General, I charge you with placing 
the glorious sword of the Emperor upon his coffin.” 
It was then the fashion among liberals to hold to this 
conclusion of a history of Napoleon by Laurent de 
VArdéche, illustrated by Horace Vernet: “Yes, in 
spite of all the past, the people went back to him, 
and will always stay with him; yes, in spite of the 
attempted aristocratic reorganization, the crowned 
soldier will be to future generations what he was 
for contemporary monarchs, the terror of old Europe, 
the genius of the new France, the child of Democracy, 
the hero of the Revolution.” Curiously enough, the 
four writers who have done the most for Napoleon’s 
glory, did not belong to the party of the Empire, 
—Béranger, Victor Hugo, Thiers, and Chateaubriand. 

To-day the dithyrambs are silent. The only man 
who in these later years has sung in epic form the 
giant of battles is Victor Hugo, and he did it in a 
book without mercy for the Emperor’s successor, in 
the “ Chatiments.” But there was such secret affinity 
between the poet and the general, that in spite of 


218 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


himself he composed the most magnificent and most 
wonderful verse about Napoleon that was ever 
written. 

Now, the critical, analytical spirit has succeeded to 
this lyrical fire. The popular songs are silent. No 
one sings in the streets the ‘“‘ Memories of the People,” 
and the impartial judge tries to determine the truth 
between the dithyramb and the satire. Hence the 
moment is favorable for studying Napoleon’s charac- 
ter, without fanaticism, without prejudice, calmly 
and loyally. 

There are many ways of looking at a man; he 
changes with time; and the great fault of historians, 
when they have to judge a celebrated person, is, that 
they make but a single portrait, instead of a series, 
which to be true to the model ought to be unlike one 
another. The Count of Las Cases, in the ‘“‘ Memorial of 
Saint Helena,” shows an exact image; but we cannot 
judge, from the Napoleon of 1816, of the Napoleons 
of earlier years. The Emperor, beaten, unhappy, a 
prisoner, became a great philosopher, under the les- 
sons of an experience of human vicissitudes. He had 
no more exultations of pride, no more intoxication of 
power, no more clouds of incense. Purified, regene- 
rated by misfortune, Napoleon improved morally, as 
he sank materially. 

Nor must we confound the First Consul with the 
Emperor. The Empire is an exaggeration of the 
Consulate. It is as First Consul that we see Napo- 
leon most truly himself, before he was caught in the 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 219 


tempest of war which ended by making him lke a 
blind, unconscious force. Napoleon as Emperor as- 
sumes superhuman proportions, to say which, to my 
thinking, is far from praise. Amid the splendor of 
Imperialism he was so carried away and fascinated 
by his own glory, that he, so to speak, lost conscious- 
ness of his identity. Beneath the mantle of the 
sovereign one can scarcely hear the beating heart of 
the man. The hero’s destiny is like a wonderful 
romance, which with its incidents plunges him into 
ecstatic surprise. He attains so lofty a height that 
we cannot understand why his head did not reel. 

As Thiers has well said: “It is hard to detect kind- 
ness in a soldier forever occupied in strewing the 
world with corpses, friendship in a man who never 
had equals, honesty in a potentate who was master 
of the wealth of the world.” We are about to study 
the Consul for life, and we shall consult the testi- 
mony of his contemporaries for answers to these ques- 
tions: Was Napoleon a religious man? Had he a 
good heart? Had he intelligence? imagination? 
Was he a genius? We shall study the two sides of 
each question, summoning the witnesses for and 
against, who appear before the highest tribunal, the 
tribunal of history. 

Was Napoleon a religious man? ‘This is the tes- 
timony of Prince Metternich: “ Napoleon was not 
irreligious in the ordinary sense of the word. He 
did not admit that there ever was a sincere atheist. 
As a Christian and a Catholic, it was to a genuine 


220 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


religion alone that he granted the right of governing 
human society. He looked upon Christianity as the 
basis of all real civilization, and on Catholicism as 
the most favorable, used for the maintenance of order 
and of the peace of the moral world. Protestantism 
he held to be a source of trouble and dissension. 
Indifferent himself to the rites of religion, he re- 
spected them too much to allow any ridicule of those 
who practised them. Possibly religion was with him 
less an affair of feeling than one of policy; but what- 
ever may have been his secret thought, he never 
betrayed it.” 

For myself, I am inclined to believe that Napo- 
leon’s religion, however incomplete it may have been, 
was at least sincere. He had faith in God, and 
thought that Heaven had given him a mission to 
fulfil on earth. The Baron de Méneval says: “ When 
he used to say that the bullet which was going to 
kill him had not yet been moulded, it was mere fatal- 
ism; he thought that his providential mission was 
not yet finished. When he wrote to the Directory 
that just when approaching Egypt he saw a ship 
which he thought belonged to the hostile fleet, and 
that he besought Fortune not to abandon him, but 
to grant him only five days, he mentally translated 
Fortune by an omnipotent Providence.” He was not 
merely a deist and interested in spiritual things; he 
had Catholic feelings which were intimately connected 
with his infantile memories. Méneval says on this 
subject: “ His habit of crossing himself mechanically 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 221 


at the revelation of a great danger, on the discovery 
of any important fact bearing on the interests of 
France or his own plans, at the announcement of an 
unexpected piece of news, good or bad, was not 
merely a reminiscence of his early religious training, 
but rather an expression of his feeling that to the 
Author of all things he owed these favors or these 
tidings. His expectation of aid from on high at the 
decisive moment of a battle; his frequent allusions 
in his talk, in his proclamations, in his bulletins, to 
the sole Judge who holds in his hands the issues of 
all events; the religious thoughts called up to his 
mind at the sight of a church or at the sound of its 
bell; his re-establishment of Catholicism in France; 
his recourse to the consolations of religion in his last 
moments, —all attest his faith in Providence.” 
Napoleon was not a devout Catholic. It cannot 
be said that he was a believer, but still less that he 
was an unbeliever; he doubted and hoped. Doubt- 
less, if he had been a fervent Christian, he would 
have hastened to have his marriage with Josephine 
blessed by the Church, for during the Consulate it 
was only a civil marriage; and he would have taken 
communion, which he did not do. Yet, like many 
men, he was at heart religious, although not practis- 
ing the forms. The Voltairian spirit filled him with 
repugnance, and he bowed before the cross with deep 
respect. Under the Consulate political considerations 
were superior to those of religion; but at Saint Helena, 
face to face with death, the Christian reappeared, 


222 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


and the conqueror of so many battles terminated his 
agitated career as a good Catholic. He piously re- 
ceived the consolations of religion, asking for all the 
usual Catholic rites at his funeral, and that he should 
lie in state in the dining-room in which he was accus- 
tomed to hear mass; and when Dr. Antomarchi smiled 
at hearing these instructions given to Abbé Vignale, 
Bonaparte said to him with some severity, “* Young 
man, you are perhaps too intelligent to believe in 
God. I’m not lke you. Not every one who wants 
to be is an atheist.” 

Was Napoleon kind? This is what Madame de 
Rémusat testifies as witness for the prosecution: “I 
ought now to speak of Napoleon’s heart. If it is pos- 
sible to believe that a being, in other respects like to 
ourselves, could yet be without this part of our organ- 
ization which makes us require to love and to be 
loved, I should say that at his creation his heart was 
forgotten, or else that he succeeded in entirely silenc- 
ing it. He always takes too much interest in himself 
to be controlled by any feeling of affection whatso- 
ever. He almost ignores even the ties of blood, the 
rights of nature.” 

After Madame de Rémusat let us hear Prince Met- 
ternich, whose testimony inclines to neither side: 
‘‘Napoleon had two forces. As a private citizen he 
was gentle and tractable, neither kind nor malicious. 
As a statesman, he was not moved by feeling; he 
decided without bias of love or hate. He crushed or 
removed his enemies, without consulting anything 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 293 


but necessity or interest. The end once attained, 
he forgot them.” 

So much for the testimony for the prosecution. 
Bourrienne who, perhaps in spite of himself, nour- 
ished a certain occult jealousy against his former col- 
lege-comrade who had become the arbiter of Europe, 
does not hesitate to say: “ Bonaparte was tender, 
kind, open to pity; he liked children very much, and 
wicked men seldom know that feeling. In his pri- 
vate life he was pleasant and indulgent to human 
weakness, which he knew and appreciated well... . 
Most men, he used to say, are weak, and descrve pity 
rather than hatred. They cannot be lifted up by 
overwhelming them with scorn; on the contrary, it is 
better to persuade them that they are better than they 
really are in order to get from them whatever they 
may be capable of.” 

After Bourrienne, let us call on his other secretary, 
Méneval: “Bonaparte seemed like a father in the 
midst of his family. His renunciation of greatness 
had an inexpressible charm. I could never get over 
my surprise at seeing the simple ways of a man who 
from afar appeared so imposing. I expected roughness 
and an uncertain temper ; instead of that, I found Napo- 
leon easy-going, not at all exacting, full of a sportive 
and sometimes boisterous gayety, and sometimes really 
delightful.” 

His aide, General Rapp, says: “No one was more 
constant in his affections than Napoleon. He loved 
his mother tenderly, he adored his wife, he was very 


294. THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


fond of his brothers and sisters, and of all his relatives. 
All, except his mother, treated him most unkindly, 
but nevertheless he continually overwhelmed them 
with wealth and honors.” 

Napoleon’s family feeling is undeniable. Prince 
Metternich himself recognized it when he said: “ A 
good son and a kind relative, with distinctions such 
as one often finds in middle-class Italian families, 
Napoleon endured the attacks of some of his family 
without exercising sufficient force of will to stop them, 
even when his interests required it. His sisters, in 
particular, got from him whatever they wanted. 
Neither of his wives had occasion to complain of his 
treatment.” October 18, 1801, Josephine wrote to 
her mother in Martinique: “ You ought to love Bona- 
parte. He makes your daughter very happy. He is 
a charming man.” 

Once, when a boy, he had just left his brother 
Joseph, to go to the school in Brienne, and in taking 
leave he had shed but one tear, which he had in vain 
tried to hide, while his brother was all in tears. A 
priest, their teacher, who saw them, said to Joseph, 
“He has shed only one tear, but that shows his grief 
as much as all of yours.” King Joseph, who reports 
this anecdote in his Memoirs, adds that there was a 
ereat difference between his brother’s real character 
and the artificial character which circumstances had 
compelled him to assume. ‘ Napoleon,” he goes on, 
“had some rare qualities, which he later thought it 
necessary to hide under the artificial character which 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 225 


he tried to acquire when he came to power, on the 
pretext that men needed to be led by a man as strong 
and just as the law, and not by a ruler whose kindness 
would be interpreted as weakness when it did not rest 
on inflexible justice.” Joseph concluded that his 
brother “was much more truly a just and good man 
than a great warrior or great administrator”; and 
Thiers is not far from this opinion when he says, 
“As soon as Napoleon ceased to rule, and had no need 
to restrain or arouse men, he became gentle, simple, 
just, with the justice of a great mind that knows 
humanity, understands its weaknesses, and pardons 
them because they are inevitable.” 

To those who maintain that Napoleon was kind, 
there has been objected his cold indifference on the 
battle-field, but for soldiers this indifference is a 
matter of professional duty. War is like hunting. 
A man who is prominent in the Society for the Pre- 
vention of Cruelty to Animals becomes absolutely 
cruel when he is hunting a hare or a partridge. For 
a general in the hour of action, the enemy is only 
human game; but after the battle, the soldier be- 
comes once more generous and humane. A soldier 
who has returned home is as mild as a child, yet he 
was a terrible creature in a hot fight with his bayonet 
at the end of his gun. Was there ever a kinder 
father than Marshal Pélissier? yet, when he had to 
give the signal of the assault of Sebastopol, did he 
feel a moment’s hesitation or pity ? 

Some may urge Napoleon’s outbursts of anger; 


226 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


but these did not arise from an evil disposition, they 
were rather put on for show, wilful outbreaks to pro- 
duce some needed effect; the result of calculation, 
not of passion. 

To this question we may add another: Did Napo- 
leon like women? Again, Madame de Rémusat ap- 
pears for the prosecution. According to her, Napoleon 
despised women, which, as she says, is not a way of 
loving them. ‘“ Their weakness,” she adds, “seemed 
to him an uncontrovertible proof of their inferiority, 
and the power they have acquired in society appeared 
to him an unendurable usurpation, a consequence 
and an abuse of the progress of civilization, which, 
as M. de Talleyrand expressed it, was always some- 
what his personal enemy. Consequently, Bonaparte 
was never quite at his ease with women; and since 
this lack of ease put him somewhat out of temper, 
he always approached awkwardly, not knowing how 
to talk with them. ... I should be inclined to 
believe that Bonaparte, who was almost always busy 
with political questions, was scarcely ever moved by 
love except through his vanity. He cared for a 
woman only if she was handsome, or at least young. 
He may perhaps have thought that in a well-organ- 
ized society we should be put to death, as certain 
insects die naturally, the work of maturity once ac- 
complished.” This is damaging testimony; and were 
it not for Madame de Rémusat’s unimpeachable repu- 
tation, I should be tempted to detect something like 
spitefulness in her language. 


| 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 927 


Yet Prince Metternich is scarcely more favorable 
in his judgment. ‘ Never,” he says, “ did he address 
a gracious or even a polite phrase to a woman, al- 
though one could perceive by his expression, or the 
sound of his voice, that he tried to do so. He spoke 
to women only about their dress, of which he boasted 
that he was a particular and severe judge; or else about 
the number of their children, and one of his favorite 
questions was whether they nursed them themselves, — 
a question which he often asked in language unusual 
in good society. Sometimes he made a number of 
inquiries about the secret relations of society, which, 
so far as the choice of place and methods was con- 
cerned, gave to his conversations an air of misplaced 
admonitions rather than the character of drawing- 
room talk.” 

Certainly the man of the camp was never a man of 
society. ‘The trivialities of gallantry seemed to him 
absurd, and his voice, accustomed to commanding, 
could not adopt soft modulations. Like most of the 
men of his generation, he paid his tribute to the 
school of Jean Jacques Rousseau, and his letters to 
Josephine during the first Italian campaign were 
written in the style of the ‘“ Nouvelle Héloise”; but 
he soon abandoned a method which only suited the 
honeymoon, and would sound very odd after a few 
years of matrimony. Without doubt he lacked the 
exaggerated sensibility which Berquin and Florian 
had introduced ; he looked upon it as an affectation 
as it existed at the end of the eighteenth century, 


228 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


when the word, if not the thing itself, had become 
ridiculous in his eyes. Since in his heart he te- 
mained a military man, he detested sentimentalism. 
Whenever he fell in love, it was with a sort of wild 
fury. He conquered a woman like a province; he 
never wooed, he subjugated; to humiliate himself 
before a woman would have seemed like a sort of 
abdication. His imperious and masterful character 
appeared in his amours; he reproached the old kings 
for their gallantry as a form of weakness, and never 
let himself be enslaved by love. He made it a point 
of honor to seem invulnerable and proof against the 
shafts of love; hence in his relations with women of 
renowned beauty or intelligence he assumed rough 
ways, though he could be, when he wished, very 
charming. The women who wanted to rule him but 
failed all owed him a grudge, as we see from their 
words or their writings. They accused the man who 
resisted them of being insensible, brutal, ill-mannered, 
heartless. But there is evident exaggeration in these 
readily explicable accusations. 

Napoleon did not, as has been unjustly said, de- 
spise women; he esteemed virtuous women and set 
great store by domestic life and Christian marriage. 
He adored and revered his mother, and many of the 
most odious accusations brought against him fall to 
the ground from lack of proof and do not demand 
discussion. 

Another question arises: Was Napoleon a man of 
intelligence? The affirmative answer seems certain. 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 9929 


Even Madame de Rémusat acknowledges the extreme 
pleasure she took in his conversation. ‘ With him, 
one idea called forth a thousand others, and the 
slightest word raised his conversation to the loftiest 
heights, in which perhaps sound logic falls away, but 
his intelligence is no less remarkable... . His lan- 
guage is generally animated and brilliant, his errors 
in grammar often give it an unexpected strength, 
which is well supported by the originality of his 
ideas. He grows interested in his conversation with- 
out plying. From the moment he takes up a subject, 
he is off far away, but careful to notice if he is fol- 
lowed, and grateful to those who understand and 
applaud him.... Like an orator who gathers 
strength from the effect he produces, Bonaparte en- 
joys the approval which he sought for in the eyes 
of his audience.” 

Prince Metternich pays like homage to Napoleon’s 
intelligence. ‘ Talking with him has always had a 
charm for me that I find hard to define. He would 
seize the essential point, strip it of all useless acces- 
sories, develop his thought, and go on elaborating it 
until it was perfectly clear and conclusive, always 
finding the right word, or inventing it if it did not 
exist, so that his conversation was always full of 
interest.” In the whole history of humanity there 
has perhaps never been a keener, more profound, 
more original, more brilliant intelligence. 

Was Napoleon a man of imagination? On this 
matter, doubt is impossible. All his life Napoleon 


230 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


was a man of action and a dreamer. When tired 
with his grandiose plans, his mind would rest by 
recalling the happy days of his youth. He liked to 
calk about Corsica, his infancy, and his old father, 
who had said to him, ‘“ You, Napoleon, you will be a 
ereat man!” His life was full of poetry from his 
cradle to the tomb. The instincts of an artist lay at 
the bottom of this conqueror’s heart. ‘“ When I first 
knew him,” says Madame de Rémusat, “he liked 
everything which tended to revery, — Ossian, twilight, 
melancholy music. I have seen him listen with rap- 
ture to the murmur of the wind, and speak with 
delight of the roar of the sea; and I have known him 
to be tempted to believing in the possibility of mid- 
night apparitions; in a word, to incline towards cer- 
tain superstitions. When in the evening he had left 
his working-room for Madame Bonaparte’s drawing- 
room, he would sometimes have the lights covered by 
a white veil; and then, after commanding strict 
silence, he took pleasure in telling and hearing ghost 
stories, or else he would listen to low, soft songs from 
Italian singers, with a very gentle accompaniment. 
Then he would fall into a revery, which every one 
was afraid to disturb by moving or changing place. 
When aroused, he seemed rested, and became calmer 
and more communicative.” 

More of a poet in action than any other great man, 
more than Alexander, more than Cesar, and more 
than Charlemagne, Napoleon, in prosperity and in 
adversity, was like a great actor, playing, not merely 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 931 


for his contemporaries, but still more for posterity. 
Had he been a mere tactician and administrator, he 
would not have roused the masses. Lamartine is 
wrong in saying that during the Napoleonic period 
there were only two things,—the budget and the 
sword ; there was an ideal, glory. Great things are 
never accomplished without immaterial elements ; and 
as Napoleon himself said, it is imagination that rules 
the world. 

The man who inspired Chateaubriand with the 
finest passages of his ‘Mémoires d’Outretombe,” 
Thiers with his “ History of the Consulate and of 
the Empire,” Lamartine with his “Ode to Bona- 
parte,” Béranger with his “Memoirs of the People,” 
Heine with his “ Two Grenadiers,” and Victor Hugo 
with the most magnificent words that have ever 
sounded on the lyre, —that man, if he possessed no 
other merit, would deserve to be called a man of 
genius. Prince Metternich is in error when he says, 
“The opinion of the world is, and always will be, 
divided on the question whether Napoleon is entitled 
to be called a great man.” Doubt on that subject is 
impossible. Napoleon is great by his successes, his 
faults, and his misfortunes. Everything about him 
was colossal, immeasurable, — the evil as well as the 
good. His was a prodigious character that cannot 
be judged by ordinary standards. Pigmies are too 
short and their eyes are too dim to be able to look 
at the giant. Great men are like wide views — they 


O32 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


are best seen from a height; they require to be looked 
at from a distance and from a lofty position, with 
due regard to optical effects; otherwise it is im- 
possible to take account of the changes of opinion, 
and history becomes inexplicable. One does not 
look at the sun through a magnifying-glass. It is 
impossible to understand Napoleon without under- 
standing the French Revolution, which produced him. 
There was in him something novel, violent, and 
strange, as in the events in which he grew up. He 
was the principal figure in a period which is one 
long series of unprecedented phenomena. 

Doubtless it may be maintained that his genius was 
an evil for humanity, that he brought on France a 
real avalanche of woe, that the results obtained were 
singularly disproportionate to the loss of life; but 
however Napoleon may be denounced, it is impossible 
to deny his greatness. His bitterest enemies have 
cursed him, but without questioning his glory; and 
even Chateaubriand himself, the author of the famous 
pamphlet, ‘‘ Bonaparte and the Bourbons,” which was 
of more service than an army to Louis XVIIL., said 
after Napoleon’s death, “I could not measure the 
giant’s greatness until he had fallen.” No man can 
so take possession of his time and of history, unless 
he is really extraordinary. What country has not 
echoed with the magic name of Napoleon? When a 
few years ago the Shah of Persia came to Paris, his 
first visit was to the Emperor’s tomb, and before 


F 
‘ 
{ 
| 


THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE. 233 


going down into the crypt, he respectfully removed 
his sword, as if he did not dare to appear armed 
before the shade of the great man. In the eyes of 
posterity Napoleon will diminish as a politician, but 
he will always grow as a poetical figure. 


III. 
JOSEPHINE IN 1803. 


N 1803 Josephine was forty years old. Her 

beauty was a little faded, but she treated her 
face so skilfully, and dressed with such taste, her ex- 
pression was so charming, her smile so sweet, her 
bearing so graceful, her manners so fine, that she 
was still very attractive, and might almost pass for a 
pretty woman. She was treated like a queen, and 
yet unexpected and moral greatness sat easily upon 
her. She received so well, had such command of 
the art of saying a kind word to every one, her mem- 
ory was so good, her tact and readiness so conspicu- 
ous, that she seemed born on the steps of the throne. 
No party was hostile to her. ‘The Republicans were 
grateful for her friendship with Fouché, who repre- 
sented the revolutionary element in Bonaparte’s sur- 
roundings ; those who belonged to the old régime 
regarded her, and with reason, as their ally, and as 
a real Royalist. Since she had been kind to every 
one without exception, she aroused neither hate nor 
anger; those who judged that her morals were not 
‘all that could be desired, never reproached her, and 

204 


JOSEPHINE IN 1808. Asta) 


the bitterest enemies of her husband spared her. By 
her kindness she found favor among men of all parties. 

In the beginning of 1803 a member of the Institute, 
M. Ventenat, in dedicating to her a book entitled 
“The Garden of Malmaison,” wrote this letter in a 
style as flowery as the subject: “ Madame, you have 
thought that the taste for flowers should not be a 
sterile study. You have brought together the rarest 
French plants, and many which had never left the 
deserts of Arabia and the burning sands of Egypt 
have been naturalized by your orders, and now, care- 
fully classified, they present to our eyes, in the garden 
of Malmaison, the most charming memory of the con- 
quests of your illustrious husband, and a most attentive 
token of your studious leisure. You have been kind 
enough to choose me to describe these different plants, 
and to inform the public of the wealth of a garden 
which already equals the best that England, Germany, 
and Spain can boast of. Deign to accept the homage 
of a task undertaken by your command.” The gallant 
botanist ended his letter with a compliment turned 
after the fashion of his day: “If in the course of this 
work I have described any one of the modest and benef- 
icent plants that seem to exist only to spread around 
them an influence as sweet as it is salutary, I shall 
have, Madame, great difficulty to avoid making a com- 
parison which, doubtless, will not escape my readers.” 

Josephine was popular, and she deserved her popu- 
larity. All classes of society united in paying her 
homage. This is the way in which her portrait is 


236 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


drawn by some of her contemporaries. Madame de 
Rémusat readily acknowledges the charm of the First 
Consul’s wife. ‘“ Without being exactly pretty,” she 
says, “her whole appearance had a peculiar charm. 
Her features were delicate and harmonious; her 
expression was gentle; her mouth, which was very 
small, did not disclose her teeth, which were not 
good; she disguised the brownness of her complexion 
with the aid of rouge and powder; her figure was 
perfect, her limbs were delicate and graceful; every 
movement was graceful, and of no one could it be 
said more truthfully than of her, that her grace was 
more beautiful than beauty. She dressed with great 
taste, and graced what she wore; and thanks to these 
advantages and her constant attention to dress, she 
escaped being effaced by the beauty and youth of the 
many women who surrounded her.” 

Napoleon’s first valet, Constant, describes Josephine 
as follows: “She was of medium height and very well 
made. All her movements were light and graceful, 
so that her walk was almost flitting, yet without los- 
ing the majesty expected of a queen. Her expressive 
countenance varied with her emotions, and yet it 
always retained the charming sweetness which was 
its main characteristic. Happy or unhappy, she was 
a beautiful object. No woman ever more thoroughly 
proved the truth of the statement that the eyes are 
the mirror of the soul. Her own were dark blue and 
almost always half hidden by her long lids, which 
were slightly arched and bordered by the most beau- 


JOSEPHINE IN 1808. 237 


tiful lashes in the world, so that they had an irresist- 
ible charm. Her hair was beautifully long and silky. 
In the morning she liked to wear a red turban, which 
gave her a most piquant creole air.” One of Jose- 
phine’s great charms was her soft, insinuating, musi- 
cal voice. ‘“ How often it happened,” says Constant, 
“that I, hike a good many others, would stop on hear- 
ing this voice, simply for the pleasure of listening to 
it!” She read aloud very well, and liked to do it. 
Napoleon preferred her to all his readers. 

The most marked quality of her nature was kind- 
ness. Being truly kind, she would have acquired the 
quality of set purpose if she had not already been 
born with it. She had all that goes to make up this 
disposition: gentleness, modesty, simplicity, compas- 
sion for the unhappy, the desire to be useful and 
agreeable, generosity, charity, and love of her neigh- 
bor. Here is what Mademoiselle Avrillon says on the 
subject: ‘There was only one opinion about the ex- 
quisite kindness of Madame Bonaparte; instances 
were abundant, and there was no limit to the eulogies 
of her many admirable qualities. She was extremely 
affable with all who were about her ; I do not believe 
that there ever was a woman who made her high 
station less perceptible.” On this point Madame de 
Rémusat offers corroboratory testimony ; for she says, 
speaking of Josephine: ‘ With all her advantages she 
united extreme kindness. Moreover, she was remark- 
ably even-tempered; she was very well disposed and 
always ready to forget any evil done to her,” Con- 


238 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


stant speaks in the same way: “Kindness was as 
much part of her character as grace of her person. 
Being extremely kind, tender almost to excess, gen- 
erous to profusion, she made all who were near her 
happy, so no woman was ever better loved or more 
deserved to be loved. . . . Having known unhappi- 
aess, she had sympathy for others ; being always good- 
tempered and cheerful, as obliging to her enemies as 
to her friends, she made peace where formerly there 
had existed quarrel and dissension.” 

Was Josephine clever? Yes, but she did not pos- 
sess that cleverness which manifests itself in ingen- 
ious thoughts or paradoxes, which is inspired by 
malice, which finds utterance in witticisms and bits 
of sarcasm, and delights in gossip and scandal, but 
rather a quiet, amiable cleverness, consisting mainly 
of tact, of a comprehension of the most delicate and 
subtle distinctions, which readily finds the exact 
word; in short, the best cleverness that there is, 
because it comes from the heart. She had that rare 
and charming gift of listening well. Her good mem- 
ory made her many friends. If she happened to meet 
any one whom she had not seen fora long time, she 
recalled the minutest circumstances of the past, and 
entered into the minutest details about things which 
even the persons concerned had sometimes forgotten. 

In justice it must be said that, of course, Josephine 
had the faults of her qualities. Generally, generosity 
easily becomes extravagance, amiability often degen- 
erates into silliness, and gentleness into weakness. 


JOSEPHINE IN 1808. 239 


Josephine was charitable, but she used to get into 
debt. ‘“ People bring me beautiful things,” she said 
one day to Bourrienne; “they show me how precious 
they are and I buy them. They don’t ask me to pay 
them at the time, but send me the bill when I have 
no money. Then that gets to Bonaparte’s ears, and 
he is angry. When I have any money, you know 
what I do with it; I give most of it to suffering peo- 
ple who come to beg, to penniless émigrés. Jose- 
phine was kind and benevolent, but she received with 
equal warmth honorable persons and those of a tar- 
nished reputation. She was gentle, but her character 
lacked seriousness; she displayed excessive indul- 
gence to women of a blemished reputation; all her 
tastes were frivolous, her conversation was empty 
and she had no influence over her husband in impor- 
tant matters. It would not have been easy for any 
woman to give political advice to a man who stoutly 
upheld the privileges of his sex. Prince Metternich 
said of Josephine: “ Her mind was not a powerful 
one, but it was of an excellent sort as far as it went. 
It would be unjust to hold her responsible for the 
excesses of Napoleon’s ambition. Had she been able 
she would doubtless have put a drag on the chariot 
in which, at the beginning of his career, she helped 
to place him.” 

In 1803 the First Consul and his wife were still 
living harmoniously, although Bonaparte, in Paris if 
not at Saint Cloud, was at times unfaithful. At 
Saint Cloud peace prevailed, and no eye could have 


240 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


detected any scandal. At eight in the morning the 
First Consul would get up and betake himself to his 
study; he lunched there alone, and while at table, 
he received artists and actors, — he was very fond of 
their society, —and then he went back to his work 
till six in the evening; then he drove in a barouche 
with his wife. On their return they dined, and then 
he would talk more or less, according to his feelings, 
and then he would go back to his work. Josephine 
spent the evening playing cards; between ten and 
eleven a servant would come in and say, “ Madame, 
the First Consul has gone to bed,” then she dismissed 
her company and went to her room. Everything was 
smooth at Saint Cloud, but at the Tuileries, in the 
same year, there were stormy scenes, one of which is 
told by Madame de Rémusat in her Memoirs. 

In 1796 it was Bonaparte who complained of 
Josephine’s indifference; in 1808, after seven years 
of marriage, it was Josephine who had learned to 
know all the uneasiness, suspicion, and mental anguish 
of a woman who sees her husband growing calm and 
cold. It must be remembered, however, that the 
First Consul was six years younger than his wife; 
and while her beauty was fading, —he was thirty-four 
when she was forty,—he was gaining not merely 
fame, wealth, and power, but also health and beauty. 

The First Consul of 1803 was very unlike the 
general of the early months of 1796. When he 
married, Bonaparte was puny, delicate, ailing, penni- 
less, with no other reputation than that of the 18th 


JOSEPHINE IN 1808. 941 


Vendémiaire; and Josephine’s friends thought that 
she had made a very poor match. But in 1803 things 
had changed very much. Bonaparte had acquired 
all the ascendancy that can be given by the sover- 
eign power in the hands of a man of genius. All 
the fashionable beauties regarded him with enthusi- 
asm, and thus destroyed poor Josephine’s peace of 
mind, while she was unable to arouse any spark of 
jealousy in him. Even if she had wished (and she 
certainly never did) to make him jealous, she could 
not commit the slightest imprudence. Since she was 
under continual observation at the Tuileries and at 
Saint Cloud, she could not repeat her foolish actions 
of the time of the Directory; the slightest coquetry, 
even in words, was forbidden; and when Bonaparte’s 
brothers were trying to persuade him to take steps 
towards divorce, she could not, by word or deed, 
give them the least ground for criticism and con- 
demnation. Men, in their egotism and vanity, — and 
even the best of them have selfish and vain points, — 
become indifferent to women when they are abso- 
lutely secure from rivals; and as Josephine’s love for 
Napoleon grew, his for her cooled. And yet this 
woman, humble, submissive, and complaisant, coquet- 
tish only with her husband, deserved blame for only 
one thing; namely, her extravagance, which is cer- 
tainly a pardonable fault; for by spending largely 
did she not encourage industry and trade? 

At heart Napoleon did Josephine justice. He 
knew that she was useful to him and brought him 


942, THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


happiness, and this fact served to defend her against — 


the incessant attack and intrigues of her enemies. 
When he was kind and repentant of his faults, she 
was happy in the enjoyment of the prosperity of 
France and of her husband’s greatness. 

To sum up, Madame Bonaparte was not lacking 
in skill. She had to contend against women younger 
and prettier than herself for the possession of Napo- 
leon’s heart; against the whole Bonaparte family, 
who were jealous of her influence; against a multi- 
tude of people, who made much of her childlessness, 
continually saying that if Napoleon had no children, 
there was no hope for the future security of France. 
Josephine needed much skill and prudence to with- 
stand for long so many enemies. She was successful 
in 1804, when she was crowned Empress by her hus- 
band’s hand, and unsuccessful in 1809; but even 
after divorce she preserved her rank and title, and 
seldom has a repudiated queen been treated with so 
much respect. 

On the rock of Saint Helena Napoleon often recalled 
the memory of this companion of his happy years, 
who had charmed and fascinated his youth. He spoke 
in praise of her qualities, her attractions, her grace. 
He said that her unvarying submission, devotion, and 
absolute complaisance amounted to virtues and at- 
tested the political skill of her sex. He added that 
her kindness was a weapon against her enemies, a 
charm for her friends, and the source of her power 
over her husband; that theirs had been a very happy 


7 


JOSEPHINE IN 1808. 243 


Darby and Joan marriage; that she had a thorough 
knowledge of his character; that she was always 
eager to please him, and he was sure that she would 
at any time have left a rendezvous with a lover to 
come to him. This last reflection, with its malice 
beneath a cloak of friendliness, was the last lingering 
trace of his old jealousy, and made even him smile. 
“Tt was necessary for me,” he said again at Saint 
Helena, “and would have made me happy, not 
merely from the point of view of politics, but in my 
domestic life, to have had a son by Josephine. The 
political result would have been that I should still be 
on the throne; for the French would have been as 
devoted to it as they were to the King of Rome, and 
I should not have set foot in the flowery abyss which 
was my ruin. Then think of the wisdom of human 
plans, and dare to call a man happy or unhappy be- 
fore his death!” In the remarks of the great captive 
there is more than sympathy, more than admiration, 
more than gratitude for the woman of whom he said: 
“T gained battles; Josephine gained me hearts. .. . 
She was the most loving and best of women.” There 
is feeling and tenderness in this language; it is the 
radiant vision of youth and love that arose before 
him. The evening twilight recalls the dawn. 


IV. 
MADAME DE REMUSAT. 


E have often quoted Madame de Rémusat’s 

judgments of Napoleon and Josephine, and 
it may be a good moment to bring her before us to 
judge her in her turn, with all the respect that is due 
to her memory. Clara Elisabeth Jane Gravier de 
Vergennes, Countess of Rémusat, was born January 
5, 1780; her parents were Charles Gravier de Ver- 
gennes, a councillor in the Parliament of Burgundy, 
and Adelaide Frances de Bastard. She was the 
erand-niece of the Count of Vergennes, who was 
Minister of Foreign Affairs under Louis XVI. Her 
childhood was embittered by the most tragic inci- 
dents. When she was fourteen, her father and her 
grandfather were guillotined, three days before the 
fall of Robespierre. As the property of those who 
were executed was confiscated, Clara de Vergennes 
was reduced to want; but she found a protector in a 
Provengal nobleman, Augustine Laurent de Rémusat, 
a magistrate at Aix before the Revolution, whom she 
married early in 1796, when barely sixteen. Her 
mother had been intimate with the Viscountess of 

244 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 245 


~ Beauharnais, then Madame Bonaparte ; and when the 
question of a court came up, the First Consul and 
his wife thought of M. and Mme. de Rémusat, who 
became prefect of the palace, and the first lady-in- 
waiting, respectively, at the beginning of the Con- 
sulate for life. 

Were they Bonapartists? without any doubt. The 
husband would no more have been false to Napoleon 
than would his wife to Josephine. They both dis- 
charged their duties with zeal, loyalty, and pleasure. 
Their position, too, was a very agreeable one: nearly 
every minute they saw the most famous man of his 
day, and beheld, as it were from an opera-box, a sight 
which interested the whole world. Madame de Rému- 
sat occupied a brillant position which must have been 
very attractive, especially after the poverty and un- 
happiness of the Terror; and when she recalled those 
days of misery she must have thanked Providence 
for so comfortable a harbor after such terrible storms. 
At Saint Cloud and at the Tuileries she found every- 
thing that could gratify a woman’s vanity. She had 
much influence over Josephine, and through her over 
Napoleon, and thus she could be of service to a great 
many émigrés. She was almost the only woman with 
whom the First Consul liked to talk. He was most 
kind to her and discussed with her politics, history, 
literature, giving evidence of his sympathy and esteem 
which really touched her. She was lively and intel- 
ligent, and found amusement in everything she saw. 
Her life was filled with most exalted entertainment. 


246 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


No bright, imaginative woman could fail to enjoy 
the charm of this varied, busy existence, and she was 
perfectly happy in it. Her son, a minister under 
Louis Philippe and Thiers, wrote to Sainte-Beuve: 
“Tt was not as a last resource, by necessity, weakness, 
temptation, or as a mere temporary expedient, that 
my parents gave their adherence to the new régime. 
They joined their fortunes with it freely and with 
perfect confidence.” In her Memoirs, Madame de 
Rémusat said of the man whom she really worshipped, 
“We loved and admired him: this confession I am 
ready to make.” 

When, in 1802, she assumed her position in the 
palace, Madame de Rémusat was twenty-two years 
old. Without being really a beauty, she was very 
attractive. She had charm, distinction, breeding. 
Her eyes, black, like her hair, were fine and expres- 
sive; her features were regular, though perhaps a 
little large; her expression benevolent and worthy ; 
in short, she had all the air of a great lady. Her 
friend, Talleyrand, has thus described her: “ Clari 
[for that is what he used to call her] is not what 
would be called a beauty, yet every one says that 
she is agreeable. . . . Her complexion is not bril- 
hant, but it has this merit, that it looks whiter the 
higher the light in which it is seen. Is not that like 
her whole nature, which appears better and more 
lovable the more it is known? She has large black 
eyes; long lashes lend her face an expression of 
mingled tenderness and vivacity which is perceptible 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 247 
even when she is calm and wishes to express nothing ; 
but these moments are rare... . Her hair generally 
hides a large part of her forehead, which is a pity. 
Two dimples, which come when she smiles, give a 
piquancy to her sweet appearance. She is often 
careless in her dress, but she always shows good 
; taste and is very neat. This neatness is part of the 
system of order and decency from which Clari never 
varies.” 

In the moral sphere Madame de Rémusat was cor- 
rectness itself. Her manners were faultless. She 
was tactful, decorous, discreet, and thoroughly well- 
bred ; moreover, she was much better educated than 
most of the women of the Consular Court. As Tal- 
leyrand said, ‘ Clari’s intelligence is broad and well 
cultivated; I know no one who talks better; when 
she wishes to appear instructed she gives a mark of 
confidence and friendship. Clari’s husband knows 
that he has a treasure in her, and he has the good 
sense to enjoy it.” 

Madame de Rémusat was a devoted and faithful 
wife, and her husband did not need to be jealous of 
her feeling for the First Consul; it was not love, but 
rather warmly enthusiastic admiration. On his side 
Napoleon was flattered at being appreciated by a 
woman whose intelligence he so admired. ‘I remem- 
ber,” she says, “that because he interested me very 
much when he spoke, and I listened with pleasure, 
he said that I was an intelligent woman when I had 
scarcely spoken two consecutive words,” 


248 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


It was only by talking with her that the First 
Consul gave evidence of his preference for Madame 
de Rémusat; and yet these conversations aroused a 
certain jealousy, and her reputation once came very 
near being compromised in spite of her correct con- 
duct and blameless morals. November 8, 1803, Napo- 
leon, accompanied by the generals of his guard, his 
aides, and M. de Rémusat, had gone to the camp 
of Boulogne, making his headquarters at Pont-de- 
Briques, a little village distant about a league from 
that town. M. de Rémusat was taken seriously ill 
almost at the moment of his arrival, and as soon as 
his wife heard of it, she went to take care of him. 
She arrived, unsummoned, in the middle of the night, 
very anxious as to what the First Consul might think 
of what she had done. Her own words will describe 
what took place the next day: ‘“* When the Consul was 
up, he sent word for me to come to him; I was agi- 
tated and somewhat flustered, as he saw the moment 
I entered the room. He kissed me at once, and 
making me sit down, calmed me by his first words: 
‘I was expecting you. Your presence will cure your 
husband.’ At these words I burst into tears; he 
seemed touched, and did his best to soothe me. Then 
he told me that I must lunch and dine with him 
every day, adding with a laugh, ‘I must take great 
care of a woman of your age, thrown among so many 
°”” Madame de Rémusat obeyed, and during 
Napoleon's stay at Pont-de-Briques she had the much- 
sought-for honor of dining ¢téte-d-téte with him, and 


soldiers. 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 249 


of hearing him discuss many interesting questions of 
politics and literature. 

On the whole, the First Consul shines in his rela- 
tions with her; he appears to have been kind to her, 
affectionate, I might almost say paternal, if he had 
not been so young, for Bonaparte was but thirty-four 
when she was twenty-three: he could scarcely be her 
father. There are, of course, sceptics who smile at 
the story of a pretty woman who arrives at a camp in 
the dead of night, and dines every day alone with a 
man who, besides great natural charm, has all the 
attraction of glory and power, and the incident is not 
a common one; but for ourselves we do not share their 
incredulity: her account bears all the stamp of accu- 
racy. Madame de Rémusat was doubtless extremely 
annoyed by the suspicions of which, to her great 
surprise, she was the object. ‘It was the first time,” 
she says, “ that I saw myself judged in a way that I 
did not deserve; my youth and all my feelings were 
shocked by such accusations ; one needs a long and 
bitter experience to be able to endure the world’s 
injustice, and perhaps one ought to regret the time 
when they strike so hard and painfully.” 

Josephine was for a moment jealous of her, and 
treated her with less kindness than usual. “I could 
not keep myself,” adds Madame de Rémusat, “ from 
asking her, with tears in my eyes, ‘ What, Madame! 
is it I whom you suspect?’ As she was kind and open 
to every passing emotion, she kissed me and was as 
open with me asin the past. Yet she did not wholly 


250 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


understand me. She was not able to comprehend my 
righteous wrath, and without troubling herself about 
the relations of her husband to myself at Boulogne, 
she was satisfied with knowing that at any rate they 
could have been of but brief duration.” 

Madame de Rémusat experienced much annoyance 
from this trip to the camp; but even the best of 
women are not without a tincture of coquetry; and 
judging from her frequent reference to this incident, 
one is inclined to think that it was not wholly un- 
pleasant to her. The idea that it could have been 
thought possible that Napoleon had really distin- 
guished her, was not entirely odious to her, and those 
who read her account will readily understand the 
feeling which made her say to the Emperor, as M. 
Charles de Rémusat takes pains to tell us: 


“Va, je t’ai trop aimé pour ne point te hair.” 


This trip to the camp at Boulogne marks the 
moment of Madame de Rémusat’s warmest enthusi- 
asm for Napoleon. She came back to Paris literally 
enchanted with the great man. “He had greeted 
me so warmly,” she herself says, “he had shown so 
much interest in my husband’s recovery; in a word, 
his consideration touched me in my anxiety and 
trouble, and then the amusements he had devised for 
me in that dull place, and the petty satisfaction 
which my vanity drew from his apparent pleasure 
in my society, —all these things affected me, and in 
the first few days after my return I was telling 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 951 


every one, with all the gratitude one feels at twenty, 
that his kindness to me had been extreme.” 
Gradually this enthusiasm lessened, and criticism 
succeeded to admiration. Under the influence of 
Josephine’s sorrows, —for Madame de Rémusat re- 
mained a lady-in-waiting to her after the divorce, — she 
lived remote from the splendors of the Empire, in a 
retreat which was not wholly unlike disgrace. Grad- 
ually the great disasters dispelled her illusions, and 
when the final blow came, she forgot the tricolor in 
her love for the white flag. Even when the Con- 
sulate and the Empire were most flourishing, there 
yet lingered in the depths of her soul certain dim 
memories of Royalism, due to her birth and the first 
impressions of her childhood. On his return from 
Elba, Napoleon said to Benjamin Constant: “ The 
nobles served me; they crowded my anterooms; 
there were no places which they did not accept, 
ask for, solicit. I have had Montmorencys, Noailles, 
Rohans, Beauvans, Mortemarts. But that is as far 
as it went. The horse curveted, and was well 
groomed, but I could feel him trembling.” During 
the Hundred Days, Madame de Rémusat sided with 
the Bourbons, and her fear of Napoleon’s resentment 
was so great that she lost her head, and threw into 
the fire the manuscript diary which she had kept 
faithfully while she was attached to the consular 
and the imperial court. Those Memoirs would have 
been the real expression of her thought. What a 
pity it is that she had not sufficient presence of 


pai. THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


mind to save them, —a thing she could easily have 
done ! 

Under the second Restoration, the former Prefect 
of the Imperial Palace became the Royalist Prefect 
of the Haute Garonne, and subsequently of the Nord ; 
and his wife devoted the leisure of life in the prov- 
inces to literature. At Lille, in 1818, she began to 
write a novel, called “The Spanish Letters, or the 
Man of Ambition”; but there appeared a posthu- 
mous book of Madame de Staél’s, “ Thoughts on the 
French Revolution,” which made so deep an impres- 
sion on her that she wrote, May 27, to the son: “A 
new whim has seized me. You know that I wake up 
every morning at six, and write until half-past nine. 
Well, I was at work, with all the manuscript of my 
novel about me, but some of Madame de Staél’s chap- 
ters kept running through my head. Suddenly, I 
threw my story away, took some clean paper, bitten 
by the necessity of writing something about Bona- 
parte... . Facts and words thronged upon me, and 
to-day and yesterday I have written twenty pages; 
it has moved me very much.” 

It is the Memoirs, written thus, in 1818, by Madame 
de Rémusat, that have been published, with an inter- 
esting preface by her grandson. In giving the book 
to the world, M. Paul de Rémusat has not merely 
complied with his father’s wishes; he has done good 
service to letters and to history. The work has called 
forth numerous discussions ; but discussion only helps 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 256 


a book and insures its success. Every original book 
needs to be subjected to criticism. 

To judge Madame de Rémusat’s Memoirs impar- 
tially, account must be taken of the successive influ- 
ences to which she was exposed, and it must be borne 
in mind that her changes of opinion were those of the 
society and the time in which she lived. France, with 
its enthusiasms and its disenchantments, is like a 
woman. At first the country adored Napoleon most 
ecstatically; then, that feeling passing away, she 
hated him, though for but a moment, and after the 
first effervescence was over, the nation tenderly re- 
turned to him who had been its idol. Written earlier, 
or written later, Madame de Rémusat’s Memoirs would 
not have been what they now are. Written earlier, 
they would have borne marks of the Imperial period ; 
and later, they would probably show traces of the 
influence of the Liberals at the time of the Restora- 
tion, when they were all full of Napoleon’s glory; and 
possibly Madame de Rémusat would have spoken of 
the Emperor as did her son, Louis Philippe’s eminent 
minister. For we must not forget that it was Charles 
de Rémusat who uttered these words from the tribune 
of the Chamber of Deputies: “He was our Emperor 
and King, and thus is entitled to be buried at Saint 
Denis; but Napoleon does not require the ordinary 
burial of kings; he should still reign and command 
in the enclosure where shall rest the country’s soldiers, 
and whence those who are called on to defend it shall 
draw fresh inspiration. His sword shall be laid upon 


954 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


his tomb. Art shall construct beneath the dome in 
the middle of the temple, consecrated by religion to 
the God of armies, a tomb worthy, if possible, of the 
name which is to be placed there. This monument 
ought to have a simple beauty, grandiose form, and 
that aspect of absolute solidity which seems to defy 
the effect of time. Napoleon needs a monument as 
lasting as his fame.’ In these words M. Charles de 
Rémusat did not think that he was unfaithful to his 
Liberalism, and the Minister of the government of 
July ended his discourse with these words: “It be- 
longed to the Monarchy of 1830, which was the first 
to rally all the forces and to conciliate all the wishes 
of the French Revolution, to build and to honor the 
statue and the tomb of a popular hero; for there is 
one thing, and one thing only, which need dread no 
comparison with glory, and that is liberty.” 

Madame de Rémusat’s life was too short; she died 
suddenly, aged forty-one, in the night of December 10, 
1821, the year of Napoleon’s death. The misfortunes 
which had swept over France were too recent. Her 
patriotic spirit had been sorely distressed by the 
invasion, and it was with a feeling of bitterness which 
we can readily understand that like many of her con- 
temporaries she asked herself what was the final result 
of so many efforts, so much heroism, so many sacri- 
fices, and so much bloodshed. Let us add, that she 
was sincere. If she had published her Memoirs dur- 
ing her lifetime to flatter the Restoration and to 
secure her husband’s advancement, she would have 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 255 


done a disgraceful thing, something of which she 
was incapable. Like Saint-Simon, she wrote for no 
personal interest, but to make up for long restraint, 
and to say freely what she believed to be the truth. 
When her Memoirs appeared, all the persons were 
dead; the passions of the time had disappeared to 
give place to the impartial judgment of history, and 
although Madame de Rémusat had been in attendance 
on Napoleon and Josephine, her testimony will be 
listened to, if not accepted. 

While there may be room for reserve as to the 
historical value of the book, its literary value is 
incontestable. It is a living work, one that has been 
lived, as people say nowadays. Madame de Rémusat 
always expresses herself like a woman of intelligence 
and like a lady. Her style is sober and incisive; she 
had a keen observation, and in a few strokes she made 
admirable sketches. Those who blame her harsh 
judgment of Napoleon should remember that towards 
the end of her life she took a gentler view of the 
great man, and that in 1821 she held very different 
views from those she had held in 1815 and 1818. 
As her son says: ‘Her letters will show how im- 
portant a place Napoleon had kept in her thoughts, 
how much his memory moved her, and what pain 
and grief she felt in hearing of his unhappy exile to 
Saint Helena. When, in the summer of 1821, she 
heard of his death, I saw her burst into tears, and 
she never named him without evident sadness.” 

Already she was indignant with certain instances 


256 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


of apostasy, and angry at the attitude of those who 
scornfully called the great Emperor Bonaparte, after 
they had been his flatterers and courtiers. One even- 
ing there was given at the ThéAtre Frangais an adap- 
tation of Schiller’s “ Mary Stuart,” and there took 
place an incident thus described by M. Charles de 
Rémusat: “In one scene Leicester refuses to listen 
to a young man who, counting on his secret feel- 
ings, proposes to him a way of saving the Queen of 
Scotland, and pretends not to know him. Talma 
gave admirably the haughty cowardice of the cour- 
tier, who disavows his own love from fear of being 
compromised, and refuses to listen to the young man 
with overwhelming insolence: ‘What do you want 
of me? I know you not.’ The act came to an end, 
and every one in our box was full of admiration for 
the scene, and my mother, who was much moved, 
had just said, in words to this effect, ‘ That’s the way 
it was; I have seen it,’ when there suddenly appeared 
at the door of the box M. de B., to whom certainly 
no particular application could be made, but who had 
been a chamberlain of the Emperor. My mother 
could not restrain herself. She said to Madame de 
Catellan, ‘If you knew’—and burst into tears.” 
Noble and generous tears, which efface a great deal. 
Doubtless Madame de Rémusat, when she was 
writing her Memoirs, had no idea of the noise they 
would make. Politics had some share in their suc- 
cess, and the fame of the book has grown from the 
discussion of which it was the cause or the pretext. 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 257 


Certain critics have taken advantage of it to utter 
against Napoleon the usual denunciations; as, for 
example, M. John Lemoinne, speaking for humanity, 
has thundered against war and against the mighty 
victor. Speaking of Napoleon, and the great con- 
querors who resemble him, he says eloquently: ‘The 
most humiliating, the most revolting, the most hope- 
less thing, is not seeing them, like the Indian chariot, 
impassively crushing the wretches who, in their idol- 
atry, fling themselves beneath the wheels, destroying 
bodies and soul, mind and matter, grain, trees, fruit, 
the product of toil, the bodies of children, mothers’ 
hearts, every law, every liberty, everything which 
lived and only asked to live; no, it is seeing the 
moral degradation, the dishonoring need of servitude, 
which urge the human horde to worship the crimes 
of which it is the victim, to adore the hands which 
smite it, to kiss the feet which crush it.” 

On the other hand, another critic whose original tal- 
ent, lively spirit, and sparkling style continually grew 
younger, Count Armand de Pontmartin, although a 
Legitimist, has undertaken the defence of Napoleon 
against Madame de Rémusat, as follows: “ Can it be 
said that Madame de Rémusat’s Memoirs is a prose ver- 
sion of the ‘Chatiments’? Frankly, I think not. The 
success of the book is great, but it is due to curiosity, 
not to love of scandal; it comes from interest in Bon- 
aparte, who is prominent throughout; although re- 
duced in size, he overruns the canvas.” And that is 
true; the excitement which the book produced in 


258 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Europe, and possibly still more in America, proves 
the ardent interest in everything relating to the 
strange and colossal figure of Napoleon. And was 
Madame de Rémusat justified in speaking ill of the 
Emperor who had been so kind and affectionate to 
her, to whom also she owed her fame with posterity ? 
for had it not been for him, who would now remember 
her? Is she not like an immortal flower growing in 
the shade of a great oak? 

But let us listen to M. de Pontmartin: “ Madame 
de Rémusat wished to take from this man, on whom 
have been wasted so many verses, so many phrases, 
his state mantle, his legendary halo, his epical and 
magic fame... . But he remains still Napoleon 
Bonaparte; that is to say,a man so above and beyond 
human proportions that if his prodigious ability is 
denied, he can be explained only as the product of 
magic or of a supernatural intervention.” And the 
Legitimist critic, doubtless annoyed at some sentences 
of M. Paul de Rémusat unfavorable to the Restora- 
tion, concludes thus: ‘“ There is only one way of look- 
ing at Napoleon, from which it is possible to disparage 
him, and that is from the position of the Royalists. 
If you do not grant me that, I shall for a moment 
forget my cockade and my flag to say: The lowering 
of great men and the exaltation of small ones are 
what is done by perishing nations, which do not know 
how to perish properly.” 

But we must not speak of France as perishing, for 
it is still full of life. The country has not yet come 


MADAME DE REMUSAT. 259 


to an end of its strength or its wealth, of its liberty 
or its glory. But may it be wise enough to abstain 
from disparaging the great men and the great events 
to which it owes its fame! Let it never condemn its 
own history more harshly than do foreigners! May 
it be saved from the folly and madness of destroying 
its idols! Let it never on any account disavow its 
three imperishable legends, those of Royalty, Impe- 
rialism, and Republicanism. No, a woman’s pretty 
claws cannot, with all her wit, even scratch the 
bronze of the Column Vendome. Carthage con- 
demned itself the day it disowned Hannibal. Zama 
ought not to make us forget Cann. Waterloo does 
not destroy Austerlitz. 

Certainly there would be justification if Napoleon 
were complained of by those who with such un- 
Wwearying persistence had suffered so much, had 
fought so bravely for him, and without hope of gain, 
without a murmur, in the sands of Egypt or in the 
snows of Russia; had followed him tirelessly through 
all his battles, from Arcola and the Pyramids to 
Moscow, Leipsic, and Waterloo, and who, poor, crip- 
pled, scarred, found refuge, after so many combats, 
only under a cottage roof! Well, those men, far 
from cursing their leader, always worshipped him, 
victorious or beaten, and always were faithful to him 
with the fervor of Béranger’s two grenadiers. If one 
wished to denounce the general, it would be the ice- 
cold hand of the veterans, of the dead, that would 
close the insulter’s mouth. Let us not revile mili- 


260 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


tary glory, for that would be a symptom of hopeless 
decadence; and let us remember that the more gold 
a nation possesses, the greater is its need of arms to 
guard its wealth. Our country’s greatness cost it 
too many efforts, too many sacrifices, too much blood, 
for it to be willing to renounce its heroic inheritance. 
Let us, who are the sons of soldiers, not forget our 
fathers, or fold our glorious banners ! 


V. 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. 


OING back to 1803, we find France triumphant. 
Piedmont had just been annexed to its terri- 

tory, which extends from the ocean to the Rhine, 
from the Gulf of Genoa to the mouth of the Scheldt. 
Italy, Switzerland, Holland, seem to be only a line 
of sentinels, ready to second the power of the Consu- 
lar Republic. The English, who find it perfectly 
natural to have taken nearly all the French colonies, 
and to rule over every sea, are unwilling to admit 
that France can have a preponderating influence upon 
the continent. They looked with alarm on Napoleon’s 
glory and the prosperity of the country. Sheridan 
said in the House of Commons: “ Look at the map of 
Europe now, and see nothing but France.... Russia, 
if not in Napoleon’s power, is, at least, in his influ- 
ence; Prussia is at his beck; Italy is his vassal ; 
Holland, in his grasp; Spain, at his nod; Turkey, in 
his toils; Portugal, at his feet. What is there left 
for Bonaparte to conquer, except England? But a 
country as great as England cannot submit to defeat.” 
In fact, the treaty of Amiens produced only a truce, 

261 


262 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


an experimental peace, as it was called in England. 
The English, who were always hostile and always 
jealous, remembered Pitt’s words: “No regular gov- 
ernment must be established in France. We must 
fight with France to the end.” Hence, in spite of 
the formal stipulations of the treaty, they refused 
to evacuate Malta. The First Consul said to the 
English ambassador, Lord Whitworth: “I shall never 
yield on this point. I had rather see you in posses- 
sion of the Faubourg Saint Antoine than of Malta. 
... Every day my irritation with England increases, 
because every puff of wind that comes from there 
carries only animosity and hate towards me.... I 
am stronger than you on land; rule the seas. If we 
can come to an understanding, we shall rule the 
world.” England remained obstinate. Napoleon did 
the same. A renewal of the conflict became ineyv- 
itable. 

March 14, 1803, a few days before the peace was 
terminated, the Diplomatic Body met as usual at the 
Tuileries, and was awaiting in Madame Bonaparte’s 
drawing-room the arrival of the First Consul and his 
wife. Meanwhile Josephine was finishing her dress- 
ing in her own room, and Napoleon was sitting on 
the floor by her side, playing with the son of Louis 
Bonaparte and Hortense, a baby five months old. 
The First Consul seemed in the best humor. Madame 
de Rémusat spoke to him about it, adding that proba- 
bly the despatches to be forwarded after the audience 
would breathe nothing but peace and concord. Soon 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. 263 


word is brought that the Diplomatic Body is assem- 
bled. Then Napoleon’s face changed. ‘Come, 
ladies!” and pale, his face drawn with the anger which 
is soon to break forth like a terrible thunder-storm, he 
hastily entered the drawing-room, and, without salut- 
ing any one, walked straight up to the English am- 
bassador. His lips were trembling, his eyes flashing. 
“So you have determined on war?” he said to Lord 
Whitworth. “ We have already had ten years of it; 
you want ten years more of it, and you force me to 
it.” Then turning to the ambassadors of Spain and 
of Russia, “If they are the first to draw the sword, I 
shall be the last to sheathe it; they have no respect 
for treaties; henceforward we must cover them with 
black crape.” The First Consul then left the Eng- 
lish ambassador, but, growing a little calmer, he re- 
turned to him after a few seconds, and spoke to him 
politely on purely personal matters. But his wrath, 
which was allayed only for a moment, broke out again 
with more violence. ‘ What is the meaning of those 
armaments? Against whom are these precautionary 
measures? I have not a single armed ship of the line 
in the ports of France. But if you arm, I shall arm, 
too. You may, perhaps, destroy France; but as to 
intimidating it, never!” At that moment Napoleon 
seemed overwhelmed with anger. His face was 
ablaze. Josephine and Madame de Rémusat looked 
at one another without a word. 

The die was cast. The English ambassador de- 
manded his passports and left Paris the night of May 


264 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


12. It became necessary for the First Consul to pre- 
pare for the great struggle. To strike the imagina- 
tion of the people, it was thought desirable that he 
should make a triumphal appearance in Belgium, 
which was the object of much jealous yearning, and 
in Antwerp, which was like a loaded pistol aimed at 
the heart of England. To arouse popular enthusiasm 
and to strengthen public confidence, Bonaparte began 
by asking officially the prayers of the archbishops and 
bishops. Had he not said to Bourrienne at the time 
of the Concordat, “ You will see how much good I 
shall get from the priests”? The prelates in their 
charges to the faithful, rivalled one another in patri- 
otism and in devotion to the Ruler of the State. “Be 
of good heart, my very dear brother,” wrote the Arch- 
bishop of Paris, “ the Giver of victory always guides 
our armies; they have scarcely broken camp, and 
already we are masters of the continental possessions 
of our rival. But the conqueror of Europe knows 
well that fortune of arms is fickle, and that our only 
confidence is in conciliating the God of battles. He 
wishes us to ask for prayers to secure the blessing of 
Heaven upon our just undertakings. The love that 
you have, my very dear brothers, for your country, 
the gratitude that you owe to a gentle, beneficent, 
and paternal government, are a sure guarantee of the 
zeal with which you will second our religious senti- 
ments.” Among other charges we will quote from 
that of the Archbishop of Rouen: “Let us pray 
God, that this man of his right hand, this man who 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. 265 


by his command has done so much for the restoration 
of his worship, and who proposes to do still more, 
shall continue to be like Cyrus, the Christ of Provi- 
dence, that it may watch over his life and cover him 
with its wings; that it may protect his person from 
the dangers to which the bold are exposed in battle, 
and from the envy and calumny which pursue the 
deserving.” 

The clergy kindled enthusiasm. The First Consul 
started for Belgium with all the glory of a favorite 
son of the Church. In this journey, which was a 
long triumphal march, all the monarchical ceremonies 
reappeared: the mayors brought to him the keys of 
the cities; the priests sang the Ze Deum; young 
girls, clad in white, presented him with bouquets ; 
rich young men formed guards of honor and brilliant 
cavalry escorts; there was an abundance of military 
music; church-bells were rung at full peal, drums 
were beaten; everywhere he was warmly greeted ; 
and the people were drawn by curiosity, as much as 
by admiration and gratitude, to crowd about the hero 
of the Pyramids and of Marengo. Everywhere there 
were triumphal arches and illuminations; and Bona- 
parte, who was generally very impatient, did not tire 
of this ceremonial. There is one fragrance that the 
rulers of empires, kingdoms, and republics always 
breathe without fatigue: it is that of incense. Jose- 
phine accompanied him, with a suite of ladies, like a 
queen; she followed her husband from town to town. 
He was anxious to have his gracious and sympathetic 


266 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


wife with him to complete his list of fascinations, 
He withdrew the crown-diamonds from the place 
where they were stored, and insisted on her wearing 
these precious jewels which formerly belonged to the 
Queens. 

They left Saint Cloud June 24, 1803; a stop was 
made at Compiégne; and on the 26th they reached 
Amiens, where Napoleon was welcomed by a crowd 
of more than thirty thousand persons. The most 
ardent wanted to unharness the horses and drag his 
carriage. The ovation was most enthusiastic. Jose- 
phine wept for joy, and even Bonaparte’s eyes moist- 
ened. The priest of a parish of Abbeville said to 
him, “Religion, as well as France, owes everything 
to you; we owe everything that we are to you; I 
owe to you all that Iam.” There was an old custom 
that whenever a King of France lodged at Amiens, 
the city should present him with four swans, and 
this custom was revived in honor of the First Consul, 
who ordered the swans sent to Paris to be placed in 
one of the basins of the Tuileries gardens, in order 
to show that he was regarded as a sovereign. 

In leaving Amiens by the Calais gate, Bonaparte 
read the inscription, “Road to England.” From 
there he went to Boulogne, to Dunkirk, and thence 
to Lille, where he arrived July 6. The greater part 
of the inhabitants of Douai, Valenciennes, Cambrai, 
and all the adjacent villages, had assembled on foot, 
on horseback, in carriages and chariots. The mayor 
of Lille, in presenting the First Consul with the keys 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. 267 
of the city, said, “If the inhabitants were fortunate 
enough to preserve them from every attack of a hos- 
tile army, they are proud to offer them without a 
stain to you to-day.” The municipality gave him 
a grand banquet in the theatre, and when he entered 
he was greeted with the popular song, — 


“Where is one happier than in the bosom of one’s family?” 


Josephine wrote, July 9, to her daughter Hortense: 
“T have been busy receiving compliments ever since 
I left Paris. You know me, and you may judge for 
yourself whether I should not prefer a quieter life. 
Fortunately the society of my ladies consoles me for 
the noisy life I lead. I receive every morning, and 
often every evening, and then I have to go to a ball. 
This I should enjoy if you could be with me, or I 
could see you amusing yourself. What I miss more 
than anything is my dear Hortense and my little 
grandson, whom I love almost as much as I do his 
mother.” 

From Lille they went to Belgium, the country to 
which, and with reason, Napoleon attached so much 
importance. At the signing of the treaty of Amiens, 
he had said to a Belgian delegation: “ The treaty of 
Campo-Formio had already defined Belgium’s posi- 
tion. Since then our armies have known reverses. 
It was thought that the Republic might grow weak 
and yield in consequence of its misfortunes, but this 
was a great error. Belgium makes part of France, 
like its oldest province, like all the territories ac- 


268 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


quired by formal treaty, like Brittany and Burgundy. 

Were the enemy in the Faubourg Saint 
Antoine, the French government ought never to 
abandon its rights.” 

On his arrival at Ostend, in the evening of July 9, 
the First Consul found the streets illuminated and 
decked with flags. On the 18th he was at Bruges. 
On the bridge of Molin there was an imitation of the 
bridge of Arcola. Bonaparte was represented in a 
general’s uniform, with a flag in his hand, among 
life-size figures of French and Austrian soldiers. It 
was all somewhat grotesque, although a tolerably 
accurate reproduction of the celebrated battle, and it 
did not fail to amuse the First Consul; but he saw 
the kind intentions of the citizens of Bruges, and 
thanked them for recalling memories which were 
dear to him. 

At Ghent, where he arrived July 14, the prefect 
of the Department said to Josephine: “ You, whose 
tender affection is for the First Consul’s happiness 
what the admiration of his century is for his glory, 
you we beg to accept our respects... We know, ma- 
dame, how you rule every heart by your kindness. 
Since this quality is adorned by every grace of mind 
and talent, it is all-powerful; deign then to believe, 
madame, that here all are submissive to your laws.” 
Nevertheless, the reception on the part of the popu- 
lace was a little less enthusiastic than that of other 
places. Bonaparte noticed this, and that evening he 
said to Josephine, “The people here are devout, and 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. 269 


under the influence of the priests; to-morrow we must 
make a long visit to the church, win the clergy by 
some device, and so we shall regain ground.” In 
fact, he heard mass with all the air of profound devo- 
tion, addressed some particularly amiable words to 
the bishop, and from that moment enthusiasm was at 
its height, and the First Consul and his wife were 
cheered at a ball given them by the city. The next 
day there was a grand entertainment on the. parade, 
where a sort of a play was acted, consisting of many 
allegories. The rivers of Belgium were represented 
as making an alliance with the Seine and, under the 
protection of the god of Commerce, crushing the 
pride of the Thames. 

July 18, they arrived at Antwerp, whence Davoust 
wrote to his wife: “ We are here in a very pretty 
city which needs only a few years of peace to become 
one of the first of Europe. The inhabitants received 
the First Consul as if they had been French for a 
century. This is more surprising because they have 
never given a reception to any of their sovereigns. 
When Joseph II. came to see them, the windows 
-were kept closed, and there was no one in the streets.” 
On this occasion, however, the population of Antwerp 
was wild with enthusiasm. There was a curious pro- 
cession in which a huge giant was carried through 
the streets, a ceremony only known on very great 
occasions, and one which had not been repeated since 
1767. The mayor offered the First Consul, in the 
name of the city, six magnificent bay horses. Bon- 


270 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


aparte, in return, presented this official with a scarf 
of honor, a distinction previously accorded to but 
two mayors, those of Lyons and of Rouen. Bona- 
parte was incessantly thinking of Antwerp as the 
city where he hoped to build a navy that should 
always rule between the Scheldt and the Thames. 
Napoleon and Josephine stopped for a few hours 
at Mechlin, on their way from Antwerp to Brussels. 
They met there the Archbishop, Monsignor de Roque- 
laure, a dignitary of the old régime, formerly Bishop 
of Senlis, under Louis XVI. The kindly and witty 
prelate said to Josephine: “Madame, after being 
united to the First Consul by the sacred bonds of 
a holy alliance, you now find yourself surrounded by 
his glory. This situation adds to the charms of your 
intelligence, to the sweetness of your character, and 
the fascinations of your company. Continue, madame, 
to exercise those amiable qualities which you have 
received from the Author of every perfect gift ; they 
will be for your husband an agreeable relaxation from 
the immense and painful tasks to which he devotes 
himself every day out of love for his country. If our 
prayers and our vows determine our mutual destinies, : 
you will both be happy, and your happiness will secure 
ours.” Bourrienne noticed the combination of religion 
and gallantry in this short address. “ Was there not,” 
he adds, “a slight deviation from ecclesiastic propri- 
ety in speaking as he did of sacred bonds and a holy 
alliance, when it was a matter of common notoriety 
that these bonds and this alliance existed only on 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. reas 


the municipal records? Or did the Archbishop have 
recourse to one of those formulas which casuists 
call, I believe, pious frauds, in order to induce the pair 
to do what he congratulated them on having done?” 

Josephine played admirably her part as sovereign, 
for she deserved no other name when she was wearing 
the crown-jewels. She was happy, and thoroughly 
enjoyed her undeniable success. The people who 
showed her so much sympathy were sincere; then 
there was no artificiality in the sentiments she in- 
spired; they were the reward of her charm, her grace, 
her sweetness, her kindness, her amiability, and her 
bounty. Her face, her smile, her voice, attracted 
every one. Her bearing and words were modest and 
amiable, with no trace of haughtiness. Rich and poor, 
nobles and plebeians, paid equal homage to the woman 
who possessed so much tact and heart, whom every 
one knew to be generous, obliging, charitable, and 
who excited no envy by her unexpected good fortune. 
It seemed as if she had been born to the purple. She 
might have served as a model to more than one prin- 
cess whose ancestors for many years had been crowned 
heads. 

The stay at Brussels was the culmination of the 
success of this journey. When they reached the 
boundaries of the department of the Dyle, in which 
the capital of Belgium is situated, Napoleon and 
Josephine saw an image symbolizing the river, in the 
form of a colossal statue seated by an urn. On the 
pedestal were these words: “I give my naime to 


972 . THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


the department; you, yours to your century.” Ata 
distance of two leagues from Brussels, the First Con- 
sul was met by an army corps of twelve thousand 
men from the Belgian fortresses, and a guard of 
honor, consisting of five hundred mounted men, in a 
red uniform, the flower of the young men of Brussels, 
under the command of the son of the Prince of Ligne. 
As soon as Bonaparte saw the troops, he descended 
from his carriage, got on horseback, and placed him- 
self at their head. It was as a general, rather than as 
a civil ruler, that he wanted to enter Brussels. At 
the end of the Allée Verte a triumphal arch had 
been erected in his honor, after the model of the 
arch of Titus in Rome. On each side was an amphi- 
theatre, covered with carpets, where were seated 
a number of women richly dressed. Cries of “ Long 


{?? 


live Bonaparte! Long live the great man!” re- 
sounded from all quarters. Cannons were fired as 
the First Consul passed under the triumphal arch. 
Before the cathedral of Saint Gudule he was greeted 
by the clergy, who, in their robes, with a cross in 
front of them, were awaiting him on the steps at the 
entrance. All the bells and chimes were rung. Jose- 
phine made her way, in a carriage presented by the 
city, through a rain of flowers. The weather was 
perfect, and every face was radiant with joy. Besides 
the people of Brussels there were more than thirty 
thousand strangers who had come from the Rhenish 
Provinces and Holland to see the great man and his 
charming wife. Their stay at Brussels was one long 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. O78 


series of ovations. Every evening the crowded streets 
were illuminated. 

Announcement was made that Bonaparte and Jo- 
sephine were to be present on Sunday at Saint Gu- 
dule to hear mass, with music, which was celebrated 
with extraordinary pomp. It was decided that the 
First Consul should be met at the entrance by the 
clergy with the cross, and that he should be led in a 
procession beneath the canopy, to the high altar. 
He was unwilling that Josephine should share this 
honor, and ordered her to take a place in a tribune 
with the Second Consul. 

Mass was to be said at noon. The clergy had 
assembled at the entrance, awaiting Bonaparte’s arri- 
val, and contrary to his usual habit he was a few 
minutes late. They began to be uneasy, when sud- 
denly he was seen entering by a side door; he came 
in alone, and took his place on the throne prepared 
for him near the high altar. The astonished priests 
hastened back to the choir, and the service began. 
Why had Napoleon thus surprised them? Because 
he had heard that on a similar occasion Charles V. 
had entered the cathedral by that little door which 
had since been called the door of Charles V. He 
wanted to do what the great Emperor had done. 

There was great enthusiasm among the populace 
when the hero of so many battles reviewed the troops 
and spoke with his old comrades of Egypt and Italy. 
At Brussels he held his court like a king. He re- 
ceived Cardinal Caprara, whose presence made a 


274 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


most favorable impression on the Belgians, who are 
devout Catholics. He was surrounded by ministers, 
members of the Diplomatic Body, and a number of 
generals. No Emperor of Germany ever displayed 
greater magnificence. 

Napoleon and Josephine visited Liége and Maés- 
tricht after leaving Brussels, then they returned to 
the old limits of France by Méziéres and Sedan, and 
reached Saint Cloud again August 12, after an absence 
of forty-eight days, during which time they had visited 
seventeen departments and eighty towns. General de 
Ségur speaks thus in his Memoirs of this trium- 
phal journey: ‘“ How often have we seen Napoleon’s 
interlocutors surprised by his perspicacity, which was 
so keen and penetrating that it seemed almost super- 
human! And how proud we were at having been 
picked out by him, to seem to be in his confidence, 
to be at times his spokesmen, to be in the service of 
a man of such great and universal genius! Those 
who left him, to give way to others, were loud in 
their admiration and warm in their gratitude, as we 
often saw when, after his departure, his orders showed 
that everything was to be embellished, improved, per- 
fected!” The First Consul’s return to Saint Cloud 
was the signal for fresh congratulations, new ad- 
dresses, which proved that the art of flattery was 
making progress from day to day. Louis XIV. him- 
self never received more adulation; whatever the 
form of government, even under a Republic, France 
is a country that needs idols. 


THE TRIP TO BELGIUM. 215 


But consider the nothingness of human glory! On 
his triumphal march to Brussels, Napoleon did not 
dream that near the great Belgian capital there was 
a little obscure village called Waterloo; on his way 
back through Sedan, he little suspected what was to 
take place within the walls of that town sixty-seven 
years later. If it were granted to us to know the 
future, what man could have a moment of pride or 
even of vanity, even if he called himself Alexander, 
Cesar, Charlemagne, or Napoleon? Power, wealth, 
glory, all are but trinkets. They are but the rattles 
with which fickle Fortune plays for a moment and 
then breaks in wantonness. 


VI. 


THE PRINCESS BORGHESE. 


FTER the First Consul’s journey through Bel- 
gium, Saint Cloud acquired all the air of an 
imperial or royal residence. There was a renewal 
of the etiquette and the usages of the old régime. 
When Madame Bonaparte received an official depu- 
tation, she arose and listened, standing, to the Presi- 
dent’s remarks, thanked him for the sentiments he 
had expressed, then sat down without inviting her 
visitors to do the same, and after a few minutes of 
unimportant conversation stood up again, and dis- 
missed her courtiers. Boots, trousers, sabres, disap- 
peared, and silk stockings, buckled shoes, dress- 
swords, hats carried under the arm, and lace ruffles, 
took their place. In respect to headdress there was 
a question whether the fashion of Louis XV. or that 
of Louis X VI. should be revived; the old wig-makers 
were at swords’ points with the new. Every morning 
Bonaparte’s head was an object of great interest; if 
he was powdered, every one had to imitate him. 
In this monarchical, rather than Republican, circle, 
the official presentation of Pauline Bonaparte, with 
276 


THE PRINCESS BORGHESE. 277 


her new title of the Princess Borghese, produced a 
sensation that was the delight of every Dangeau of 
the time. Napoleon’s sisters were treated like prin- 
cesses of the blood. Caroline, whose husband, Gen- 
eral Murat, held the important post of governor of 
Paris, already displayed a boundless ambition and 
great family pride. Elisa Bacciochi, who was always 
surrounded by a little court of men of letters, of 
whom Fontanes was the most devoted, desired a repu- 
tation as a wit, as a female Meecenas, and played in 
tragedy with her brother Lucien, who fancied himself 
a second Talma. As for Pauline, she wished to wield 
only one sceptre, and that sceptre no one could deny 
her; it was that of beauty. 

Pauline Bonaparte was born at Ajaccio, October 20, 
1780. During the first Italian campaign she had 
married one of the bravest and most brilliant of her 
brother’s comrades in arms, General Leclerc, who, 
although born in 1772, had succeeded in acquiring a 
reputation, in spite of his youth. Leclerc received a 
command in the expeditionary corps which made the 
perilous campaign of Saint Domingo, and the First 
Consul, being unwilling that so pretty a woman as 
Pauline should stay in Paris alone, ordered her to 
follow her husband. If we may believe Madame 
Junot (the Duchess of Abrantés), the beautiful 
Madame Leclere was in despair at the thought of 
leaving France. ‘“O Laurette,” she said, throwing 
herself into her friend’s arms, “how fortunate you 
are! You are going to stay in Paris, and heavens, 


278 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


what a tedious life I shall have! How could my 
brother be so hard and cruel as to exile me to the 
society of savages and serpents? And then, I am ill; 
I shall die before I get there!” Madame Junot, see- 
ing her in tears, and fearful of the result, consoled 
her with toys and finery, like a child. ‘“ Pauline, 
you will be a queen there; Pauline, you will go 
everywhere in a palanquin; you will always have a 
black woman to wait on you, and you will walk 
under orange-trees in blossom. How pretty you will 
look in a creole dress!” As Madame Junot went 
on, Pauline’s sobbing lessened. “And so you think, 
Laurette, that I shall look pretty, look prettier than I 
do now, with a turban like a creole, a short waist, 
and a skirt of striped muslin?” Madame Leclerc 
rang for her maid, and had a fine collection of turbans 
brought, which had just come from India. Madame 
Junot picked out the most brilliant, and placed it 
becomingly on Pauline’s graceful head. “ Laurette, 
you know how much I love you, but you preferred 
Caroline to me ; well, we shall see if you don’t repent 
your choice. Now, I am going to give you a proof 
of how much I love you. You must come to Saint 
Domingo; you shall be the first after me. I shall be 
queen, as you said just now, and you shall be vice- 
queen. Iam going to speak to my brother about it. 

We will give balls, and we will have picnics 
among those beautiful mountains. Junot shall be 
commander of the capital,—what is its name? I 
shall tell Leclere that he must give a party every 


THE PRINCESS BORGHESE. 279 


day.” And while talking, Pauline pulled Madame 
Junot’s ear, in imitation of the First Consul’s favorite 
gesture. 

Madame Leclere departed without Madame Junot. 
The fleet set sail for Saint Domingo in the month of 
December, 1801. Every luxury and elegance had 
been provided for the ship in which the sister of 
the First Consul was to make the journey. The 
beautiful Pauline resembled Cleopatra in her barge. 
The voyage begun thus sumptuously had a sad issue. 
The expedition was a complete failure; and in this 
first check France had a warning of future disasters. 
During this unsuccessful campaign, Pauline comported 
herself nobly, displaying an energy worthy of her 
blood. She had taken with her her little boy named 
Dermide, a curious name given him by his godfather, 
Napoleon, who at that time was passionately fond of 
Ossian. At Saint Domingo she was a fond mother, 
a devoted wife; she showed no fear of the epidemics 
which were raging on the island, nor of the insurrec- 
tion which broke out. Her husband ordered her to 
sail back for home with the boy; but she refused, 
saying that a Bonaparte could not run from danger. 
When Leclere was attacked by the illness which 
carried him off in a few days, she nursed him with 
incessant care, regardless of the danger of contagion 
from the yellow fever, and piously carried back to 
France the remains of the husband whom she mourned 
sincerely. All these emotions and perils had affected 
her health. That of her son, too, was destroyed by 


280 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


the deadly climate, and the boy had but a few months 
to live. 

Early in 1808, the news of General Leclere’s death 
reached Paris. The First Consul was deeply grieved, 
for he esteemed and liked his brother-in-law. The 
next day letters from Toulon announced the arrival 
at that port of the ship that brought Madame Leclerc 
and her son, together with the remains of the la- 
mented general. “In January, 1803,” says Madame 
de Rémusat, “ the young and pretty widow returned 
to France. She was at the time the victim of an ill- 
ness from which she always afterwards suffered; but 
though weak and ailing, and dressed in mourning, 
she seemed to me the most charming person I had 
ever seen.” 

General Leclerce’s death gave rise to a little diplo- 
matic incident, and the way this was settled shows 
once more how much the Republic under a Consul 
resembled a monarchy. It is thus told by Madame de 
Rémusat: “ Bonaparte went into mourning as well as 
Madame Bonaparte, and we who were attached to the 
household received orders to do the same thing. That 
in itself was somewhat striking, but the question came 
up about the visit to be made to the Tuileries by the 
ambassadors, in order to condole with the Consul and 
his wife in their loss. It was conveyed to them that 
politeness required that they too should wear mourn- 
ing when they called. They met to deliberate, and 
not having time to receive instructions from their 


THE PRINCESS BORGHESE. 281 


various courts, they decided to make the visit and 
to observe the formalities usual in such cases.” 

At first Pauline seemed an inconsolable widow, a 
real Artemisia. She had her hair cut off in order to 
place it, in token of her grief, within her husband’s 
coffin. “Oh!” said the First Consul, ‘‘ she knows it 
will come out much handsomer for having been cut.” 

A lady equally conspicuous for intelligence, kindli- 
ness, and talents, the Marchioness of Blocqueville, 
the worthy daughter of the famous Marshal Davoust, 
has published a remarkable book, called “ Marshal 
Davoust, Prince of Eckmihl, described by his family 
and by himself.” In this volume, which is full of 
interesting details, is to be found a curious note on 
the subject of Pauline’s grief. Davoust, it should be 
said, had married Mademoiselle Aimée Leclerc, sister 
of General Leclere, and hence sister-in-law of Pauline 
Bonaparte. “The body of General Leclerc was brought 
back from Saint Domingo, and laid in the park of 
Montgobert. His heart was enclosed in a gold urn. 
The Princess Pauline Bonaparte, his wife, who had 
been anxious to accompany him on that fatal expedi- 
tion, after covering his face with her beautiful hair, 
like another Agrippina, but more beautiful, tenderer, 
less ambitious, as well as less severe than the first, 
brought back the heart of her husband, after having en- 
praved on the vase which held it a few words of love. 
Doubtless it would be possible to inscribe beneath 
this utterance of ostentatious grief the famous lines 
scratched, according to tradition, by Francis I. on a 


282 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


window of Chambord. Nevertheless, my mother has 
often told me that her sister-in-law had assured her 
that she had never loved any one so much as Leclerc. 
It is possible. A witty critic has maintained that all 
princesses imagine themselves to be almost demi- 
gods; in that case, they feel authorized to practise 
the religion of memorials like ordinary mortals.” 
What is certain is that in 1803, Pauline Bonaparte, 
more beautiful than ever, seemed almost consoled. 
She had made the conquest of a great Italian noble- 
man, Prince Camille Borghese, born in Rome, in 
1775, who asked to marry her. The First Consul did 
not give his assent at once. He did not wish by any 
undue haste to seem to be over-gratified by an aristo- 
cratic alliance with which, in fact, he was very well 
pleased. At Saint Helena he said on the subject of 
this marriage: “ My foreign birth, which was some- 
times brought up against me in France, was of great 
value to me. One result was that all the Italians 
looked on me as a fellow-countryman.... When the 
question came up of the marriage of my sister Pauline 
and Prince Borghese, there was only one feeling in 
Rome and in Tuscany, in this family and all its 
branches. ‘There is no objection,’ they all said; ‘it’s 
between ourselves; they are one of our families.’ ” 
The wedding of Pauline and Prince Borghese took 
place November 6, 18038, in Joseph Bonaparte’s castle 
at Mortefontaine. A few days later the new prin- 
cess and her husband were formally presented at 
Saint Cloud, and the ceremony is thus described by 


THE PRINCESS BORGHESE. 283 


the Duchess of Abrantés. It was evening, and the 
wife of the First Consul was awaiting the arrival of 
her sister-in-law. She, too, was anxious to appear 
well. Although it was winter, she wore a thin dress 
of India muslin. At the lower edge there was a little 
border, as wide as a finger, of gold foil. The waist, 
which was draped in thick folds in front, was caught 
at each shoulder by a lion’s head in black enamel ; 
an embroidered girdle was fastened by a clasp lke 
the lions’ heads on her shoulders. With her short 
sleeves, bare arms, and her hair enclosed in a gilt 
net, the meshes of which met on her forehead, she 
looked like a beautiful Greek statue. The First 
Consul led her to the mirror over the mantelpiece 
that he might see her on all sides at once, and, kiss- 
ing her shoulder, said: “ Ah! Josephine, I shall be 
jealous; you have some plan in your head. Why are 
you so beautiful to-day?” “I know that you lke to 
see me in white, and so I put on a white dress; that 
is all.” “ Well, if you did it to please me, you have 
succeeded,” and he kissed her again. But the prin- 
cess was a little late, and Bonaparte went back to 
his study a little annoyed. Suddenly a carriage was 
heard in the courtyard; it was a magnificent barouche, 
adorned with a coat-of-arms, and it was drawn by six 
fine horses. The outrider and the footman carried 
lighted torches. Then the newly married pair, who 
had come to make their wedding call, alighted, and 
reached the door of the great drawing-room. An 
usher flung open the door and in a loud voice an- 


284 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


nounced: “Prince and Princess Borghese.” The 
princess was in great splendor, in a dress of green 
velvet covered with diamonds. On one side she 
carried a cluster of precious stones, emeralds, and 
pearls of incalculable value, and on her head she wore 
a diadem of emeralds and diamonds. Josephine 
assumed all the airs of a queen, and tet her sister-in- 
law come up to her along nearly the whole length of 
the drawing-room. A few minutes later Pauline said 
to Madame Junot, “My sister-in-law thought she 
would put me out by making me walk through the 
drawing-room, but instead I was delighted.” “ Why 
so?” ‘Because my train would not have shown if 
she had met me at the door, where as it was, my train 
was very much admired.” 

Suddenly, however, the charming princess discov- 
ered something which marred her triumph. She had 
forgotten — and she could not forgive herself — that 
the furniture of the room was covered with blue, an 
admirable background for Josephine’s white muslin ; 
but she had on a green dress which quarrelled fright- 
fully with that color. “Oh, heavens!” she whis- 
pered in despair to Madame Junot, “I put on a green 
dress to sit on a blue chair.” In a few minutes the 
Princess walked straight to Josephine to take her 
leave, and the two sisters-in-law parted. 

If Pauline Bonaparte had belonged to an utterly 
obscure family, she would still have been famous for 
her beauty; but when we remember that to the beauty 
of a Venus, worthy to inspire a genius like Canova, 


THE PRINCESS BORGHESE. 285 


she had the advantage of being Napoleon’s sister and 
the wife of one of the great Roman nobles, it is easy 
to understand that her success was without precedent. 
Whenever she went to the theatre, every opera-glass 
was turned towards her. Her entrance into a ball- 
room was greeted by a long murmur of admiration. 
Her attire was always carefully studied, and very 
beautiful; her jewelry was of enormous value. She 
inspired the wildest enthusiasm. In fact, these ex- 
ceptional women, these “professional beauties,” as the 
English call them, are seldom happy. Living always 
for show, they have no leisure for domestic joy or for 
genuine emotion. In their artificial existence there 
is a perpetual fever, as if they were actresses. They 
are admired, to be sure, but this admiration arouses 
jealousy; and the men on whom they do not smile 
become as hostile as the women whom they eclipse. 
They are the prey of gossip and scandal; their most 
innocent actions are misinterpreted. In spite of the 
incense burned before them, of the splendid luxury 
which surrounds them, as if they were living idols, 
of their pride gratified by a multitude of worshippers, 
they feel that they live in an atmosphere of disappro- 
bation, even of hate. The first sign of age, the first 
wrinkle, the first deception, comes to them as a 
calamity. Every new beauty who appears in the 
drawing-room seems to them an insolent rival. They 
wish to reign without dispute. Any one who does 
not loudly praise them they regard as a foe; criticism 
seems to them like rebellion. In a word, they seek 


286 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


amusement so eagerly that they tire themselves; and 
if any trace of moral dignity, of a moral ideal, is left 
in them, they are sure to detect the bitter dregs in 
the cup from which they thought to drink only nec- 
tar and ambrosia. In the early years of the century 
the Princess Borghese was a model of flawless beauty. 
Were such a woman living now, everything she did 
would be published in the papers, especially in the 
‘society papers,’ as they are called. 


VIE 


MADAME MOREAU. 


S not history a tragi-comedy, in which Shakespea- 
rian contrasts follow one another? After the 
scene of the players comes the scene of the grave- 
diggers ; after the splendors of Saint Cloud, the moat 
of Vincennes. We have just been speaking of a pretty 
woman, a queen of beauty, of her jewels, her dresses, 
her finery; now we have to turn to the gloomiest 
subjects, — plots, treachery, death sentences, and a 
murder. We have just seen Bonaparte happy and 
triumphant, intoxicated with success, living in the 
royal palaces with all the splendor of a new Louis 
XIV.; now we shall see him uneasy, anxious, fearful 
of ambushes at every turn, and finally losing his head 
to the point of committing a crime, which shall haunt 
his memory even at Saint Helena. 

“Where is the woman?” used always to ask a 
judge who well knew human nature. The woman 
in the case of Cadoudal, Moreau, and Pichegru — 
one of the consequences of which was the death of 
the Duke of Enghien— was Madame Moreau. Had 
it not been for her jealousy, vanity, and feminine 

287 


288 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


spite, her husband, instead of being the unrelenting 
enemy of Napoleon, would have become Marshal of 
France, duke, prince, like Davoust, like Ney, like 
Masséna. This thought suggested itself to me when 
I was looking at the little monument raised to him 
near Dresden, on the spot where the hero of Hohen- 
linden fell by the side of the Emperor of Russia. 
The ball, it will be remembered, took off both his legs. 

What was the origin of Moreau’s hatred for Napo- 
leon, who had made him many advances? It was 
the petty jealousy of Madame Moreau, who was un- 
willing to acknowledge her inferiority to any woman. 
She said to herself: “I am younger, prettier, better 
educated than Madame Bonaparte. I was not mixed 
up in the society of Tallien and Barras, as she was. I 
don’t mean to be her lady of honor, her servant. Af- 
ter all, we are living in a republic, and we have noth- 
ing to do with a sovereign. This parody of the old 
courts is a contemptible farce. If Bonaparte has 
won victories, my husband has also won them, and 
both are generals of the Republic, and. my husband is 
the elder; he has commanded larger armies, and has 
served his country with equal glory. I have a right 
to be treated with respect ; I should not be obliged to 
wait in anterooms. If there are people low enough to 
forget their dignity to that extent, I am not one of 
them.” 

Those who were interested in making a definite 
breach between the First Consul and General Moreau 
—and there were many, in the Republican as well 


MADAME MOREAU. 289 


as in the Bourbon camp— poured oil on the fire to the 
best of their ability. Those Royalists who had not 
yet given their allegiance to the Consular Court paid 
all sorts of attentions to Madame Moreau, and the 
leaders of the aristocracy made a point of frequenting 
her house in the rue d’ Anjou Saint Honoré, where she 
used to give large balls. The First Consul detested 
pin-pricks as much as dagger-strokes, and feared much 
more the opposition of the drawing-rooms than that 
of public places, because it is subtler, more impal- 
pable than the other; and he was extremely annoyed 
by this petty warfare, by these feminine skirmishings, 
in which, with all his power, he could never get the 
upper hand. The idlers, who always abound in 
Paris, the Republicans, wroth with the elevation of 
the Corsican Cesar, the returned émigrés, who were 
enraged at not once more getting possession of their 
estates, were forever talking about these dissensions, 
which set the two greatest Republican generals at 
loggerheads. 

Josephine, however, who was always courteous and 
kindly, tried her best to pacify the wife of the con- 
queror of Hohenlinden. Madame Moreau had been 
one of her schoolmates at Madame Campan’s at Saint 
Germain, where she had acquired those accomplish- 
ments which, in conjunction with her beauty, had 
filled her with a pride which her marriage with 
Moreau had only augmented. Josephine had done 
much to further this match, which she regarded as 
favorable to the First Consul’s interests. 


290 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


At that time Bonaparte and Moreau were on good 
terms. In the morning of the 18th Brumaire, when 
the First Consul had gone on horseback. from his 
house in the rue Chantereine to the Tuileries, Moreau 
was one of the generals who escorted him. Bonaparte 
took a malign pleasure in compromising him by bid- 
ding him to keep his eye on the Directors at the 
Luxembourg, thus making him the jailer of the rep- 
resentatives of legality, while the coup d'état was 
taking place in the orange-house at Saint Cloud. On 
his return from Marengo, the First Consul had wished 
to make Moreau a present, and he had made for him 
a pair of valuable pistols on which were engraved the 
names of the principal battles in which the general 
had distinguished himself. ‘“* You must excuse me,” 
Bonaparte said when he gave him the pistols, “if they 
are not more ornamented; the names of your vic- 
tories took all the place.” 

Moreau married Mademoiselle Hulot the 18th Bru- 
maire, year IX. (November 9, 1800), exactly one year 
before the day when Bonaparte seized the highest 
power. In ten days the bridegroom went to take 
command of the Army of Germany, and December 8, 
1800, he won the brilliant victory of Hohenlinden. 
On hearing of this battle, Madame Moreau hastened 
to the Tuileries to see the First Consul and Madame 
Bonaparte, but she called several times without get- 
ting in. The last time she went she was accompanied 
by her mother, Madame Hulot, a rich creole from the 
Isle of France, an ambitious woman, quick to take 


MADAME MOREAU. 291 


offence and slow to forgive. Mother and daughter 
waited for a long time, but in vain. As they were 
going away, Madame Hulot was very angry, and said 
in a loud voice that her daughter was not to be kept 
waiting in that way. 

Soon after, Madame Moreau joined her husband in 
Germany, and her pride increased when she saw for 
herself what fame and glory surrounded him. Madame 
Hulot, who had stayed in France, went one day to 
Malmaison to solicit the promotion of her eldest son, a 
naval officer; Josephine received her very kindly and 
asked her to stay to dinner, without saying anything 
about it to her husband. At table Bonaparte was 
visibly annoyed; he hardly spoke to her, and after 
dinner he turned his back upon her. Josephine did 
her best to atone for his impoliteness, saying that he 
was much preoccupied and anxious about some 
despatches that had not arrived. 

The Duchess of Abrantés narrates a talk she had 
with the First Consul a few days after Madame Hu- 
lot’s visit to Malmaison. “Do you know Madame 
Moreau?” “I used to see her in society when we 
were young.” ‘“Isn’t she very clever in a great 
many ways?” ‘Yes; I know that she dances very 
well. Steilbelt, who is my dancing-master as well as 
hers, says that next to Madame Delarue-Beaumarchais, 
Mademoiselle Hulot was the best pupil he had; she 
paints miniatures ; she knows a good many languages, 
and then she is very pretty.” “Oh! I can judge that 
as well as any one, and I don’t think so. She has a 


292 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


face like a nut-cracker, a bad expression, and a very 
unattractive appearance.” Then Josephine broke in, 
‘You don’t like her, and are unfair to her.” Bona- 
parte answered, “It is true, I don’t like her; and for 
a very simple reason,— she hates me. She and her 
mother are the evil geniuses of Moreau. Whom do 
you think Josephine had to dinner the other day? 
Madame Hulot— Madame Hulot at Malmaison!” 
“ But,” resumed Madame Bonaparte, “she came to 
make peace.” “To make peace— Madame Haulot! 
My poor Josephine, you are very credulous, very 
simple !” 

It must be acknowledged that, with all his genius, 
Napoleon lacked the equability and self-possession 
which are necessary in a drawing-room. He could not 
hide his antipathies, and he was subject to freaks, to 
outbreaks of roughness and impatience which were 
the despair of the people of the old régime like Talley- 
rand. Josephine, on the other hand, knew how to 
control herself, and could smile when her heart was 
heavy. Being courteous from principle as well as by 
nature, she never offended any one, and as a well-bred 
woman she received with charming grace even those 
of whom she had good cause to complain. Having 
lived successively in Royalist, Republican, and Con- 
sular drawing-rooms, she was very familiar with 
Parisian society, and by her tact and affability knew 
how to reconcile the most hostile elements. Had it 
been left to her, she would have smoothed all the dis< 
sensions that arose between her husband and Moreau. 


MADAME MOREAU. 293 


But Bonaparte listened only to his wrath. He had, 
it must be said, horror of any rivalry ; he would gladly 
have loaded Moreau with benefits, with honors, with 
money, but on one condition, — that no one should pre- 
sume to compare the hero of Hohenlinden with the 
hero of Marengo. There seemed as great a difference 
between him and Moreau as between Louis XIV. and 
Condé; andif he had been in the place of Louis XIV., 
he would not have liked to hear much said about the 
battle of Rocroy. Being younger than his principal 
heutenants, and having attained a wonderful position 
with astonishing rapidity, he fancied that the slightest 
familiarity would mar his reputation, and he tried to 
draw a rigid line between himself and his generals. 
He demanded as much, in matters of etiquette, for his 
wife, and compelled her, notwithstanding the marked 
modesty which always distinguished her, to assume 
the manners and tone of a queen. This greatly an- 
noyed Madame Moreau, who said it was scarcely 
worth while to have overthrown the old dynasty, if 
now they had to endure another. 

To these feminine grievances were added the seri- 
ous regret of a certain number of generals and officers 
who continued to be austere Republicans, the volun- 
teers of the early years of the Republic, who had 
suffered in the cause of liberty and national inde- 
pendence, for which they had sacrificed themselves 
with a devotion void of all personal ambition. Gen- 
eral de Ségur has drawn the portrait of these ‘“ Spar- 
tans of the Rhine,” as they were then called, — sturdy 


294. THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


ancients, who preserved great simplicity in dress and 
manner, and manifested a haughty and disdainful 
surprise at the sight of the reviving luxury and of 
the ambitious passions which took the place of the 
simple, disinterested devotion of the early Republi- 
can enthusiasm. 

When Moreau returned to France without any 
command, he fell under the influence of unoccupied 
and discontented companions. There had long been 
a latent rivalry between the officers of the Army of 
Italy and those of the Army of the Rhine. The last- 
named gave expression to their ill-humor with all a 
soldier’s frankness. One of them, General Domon, 
who had a very caustic tongue, happened to be one 
evening ata restaurant. He asked what they had 
ready. “Chicken @ la Marengo,” answered the waiter. 
“What do I care for chicken @ la Marengo?” shouted 
Domon. ‘“ What I want is beef @ la Hohenlinden.” 

We who live ina period of comparative tranquillity 
cannot easily form an idea of the French officers at 
the beginning of the century. Caring for nothing 
but duels and battles, they were completely out of 
their element in time of peace. The more rigid their 
discipline in the ranks, the freer and more unbridled 
their talk when their service was over. The officers’ 
coffee-houses were like the old clubs, and they them- 
selves talked like the old tribunes. It was not easy 
to control these men, thirsting for adventure, eager 
for action, for emotion, and peril. Civilian dress did 
not become them, and they seemed awkward when 


MADAME MOREAU. 295 


holding a little switch instead of a sabre. Averse to 
seeking in study and intellectual work an outlet 
for their activity, they crowded the coffee-houses, 
theatres, the galleries and restaurants of the Palais 
Royal, scorning everything which was not military, 
saying that the Consul would amount to nothing 
without the army, and yet opposing the growth of 
his power, when all the rest of the country was bow- 
ing before it respectfully. They looked on Moreau 
and Bernadotte as the last of the Romans. 

The future King of Sweden and Norway, who at 
his coronation insisted on being anointed on his 
forehead, his temples, his chest, and his wrist by the 
Archbishop of Upsala, while he held a golden horn 
full of consecrated oil, was never tired of laughing 
at the Concordat and at Bonaparte’s Catholicism. 
The future Charles XIV., who on the same occasion 
rode out in triumph on horseback, wearing a Spanish 
coat of silver cloth embroidered with diamonds, and 
a plumed hat like that of Henry IV., now affected in 
his dress and bearing a thoroughly Republican sim- 
plicity. Who could have foreseen that the time 
would come when he should walk beneath a canopy, 
while four chamberlains of the highest nobility should 
carry the train of his royal mantle? 

Bernadotte had married Mademoiselle Désirée 
Clary, a young woman whom Napoleon had been 
anxious to marry at the beginning of his career. She 
was the sister of Madame Joseph Bonaparte. In 1803 
he spent his time in quarrelling with the First Consul, 


296 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


and then in seeking to make peace. He had given 
up the command of the Army of the West, and was 
in Paris in disgrace. But the First Consul stood 
godfather for his son, who was named Oscar, under 
the influence of Ossian, at that time a much-admired 
poet. Méneval says: “ Bernadotte, who was so obse- 
quious before Napoleon, was forever conspiring against 
him; and then he resorted to everything to win for- 
giveness. Joseph Bonaparte and his wife displayed 
as much energy in securing his pardon as Bernadotte 
did in his alternations of offence and submission.” 

As for Moreau, he systematically rejected the First 
Consul’s advances. He made a great show of never 
appearing except in plain clothes, even at a meeting 
of officers; an excess of apparent modesty, which we 
may well regard as an excess of pride, Rulers may 
always mistrust those generals who do not wish to 
wear their uniform. 

One day Moreau refused an invitation to a formal 
dinner at the Tuileries, saying he preferred to dine 
with only a few friends. On another occasion he 
refused to accompany the First Consul to a review. 
When he was invited with the other generals to hear 
the Ze Deum for the Concordat at Notre Dame, and 
to the banquet at the Tuileries, he did not go to the 
Te Deum, and that evening he ridiculed it in the 
presence of the Minister of War, with some other 
generals who were dining with him. Once again, 
there was a great supper at the palace, and Moreau 
was absent. When somebody expressed surprise, 


MADAME MOREAU. 297 


Bonaparte said that since his invitations had been 
twice declined, he did not care to have that happen 
again; and Moreau was never again invited. His 
coolness soon became open hostility. He made, in 
winter, his mansion in the rue d’ Anjou, and in sum- 
mer his country-place, Grosbois, a centre of oppo- 
sition. There the First Consul was treated as a 
usurper with more luck than ability, as a traitor to 
the Republic, and his plan of invading England was 
called a wild dream. When Bonaparte received the 
report of this talk from the police, he was furiously 
angry. ‘Moreau,’ we read, in his “ Memorial of Saint 
Helena,” “was ruled entirely by his wife, which is 
always a misfortune, said the Emperor, because a man 
is, in that case, neither himself nor his wife; in fact, 
he is nothing at all. Moreau was sometimes friendly, 
sometimes hostile to the First Consul, sometimes 
obsequious, sometimes bitter. The First Consul, 
who would gladly have made a friend of him, found 
himself obliged to have nothing to do with him. 
Moreau, he said, will end by breaking his head 
against the columns of the palace. He was driven to 
that by the absurd inconsistencies and pretensions of 
his wife and his mother-in-law, who even went so far 
as to wish to take precedence of the wife of the First 
Consul. Once, said Napoleon, the Minister of For- 
eign Affairs had to use force to prevent this at a 
grand banquet.” 

Moreau’s position in 1803 bore some likeness to that 
of General Changarnier before the coup d état of 


298 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


December 2. He was surrounded by both Republi- 
cans and Royalists, and all the malcontents flocked 
to him. The Bourbons, who were as credulous as 
exiles always are, thought they had found in hima 
restorer of royalty, while, in fact, Moreau, who im- 
agined that he had a party in the Senate and in the 
army, was working only for himself, and in spite of 
all the illusions of the Royalists, he looked upon the 
part of a Monk as something below him. The officers 
who were devoted to him had no share in the ideas 
and interests of the émigrés. General de Ségur, who 
was a grandson of a Marshal of France, the Minister 
of War under Louis XVI., who had felt a momentary 
admiration for Moreau, left him, because he found him 
unjust to the point of insolence for the men and things 
of the old régime. “It was Moreau’s rudeness,” he 
said, “which first opened my eyes to the mistake I 
had made. One morning I had been to the rue d’An- 
jou Saint Honoré, and Grenier or Lecourbe and he 
began to talk in my presence about the French army 
at the time of Louis XV. I listened to his remarks as 
if they were oracles, although in fact they were not 
at all remarkable, —for his way of speaking and his 
manners were noticeably common, — when forgetting 
or not knowing my relationship, he spoke of all the 
generals of the old régime, without exception, in the 
vilest and most insulting language. This brought all 
my blood to my face, and wounded by this attack on 
my grandfather, a brave man, maimed in his coun- 
try’s service, for whom I was then in mourning, I left 


MADAME MOREAU. 299 


at once. My anger was not less keen because I was 
unable to make any reply to this insolent brutality.” 

The Royalists were not so particular; they imag- 
ined that Moreau was their man, and nothing could 
remove this idea from their heads. But vague rumors 
began to get into circulation. The First Consul’s 
friends said that his life was seriously threatened, 
and at Saint Cloud and the Tuileries precautions 
were taken which were turned to ridicule by Moreau’s 
friends. In certain sets it was the fashion to say that 
the alleged plots were an innovation of the police; 
but the Chouans knew better. As to the general 
public, it awaited events. In the night of February 
14, 1804, a Council of Ministers was held at the 
Tuileries. ‘I have been the kindest of men,” said 
Bonaparte, “but I shall be the most terrible when it 
is necessary, and I shall crush Moreau, as I should 
the next man, for entering into plots odious in their 
aim, and disgraceful for the affiliations which they 
imply.” The next morning a picked force was sent 
to the rue d’Anjou Saint Honoré, to arrest Moreau 
at his home. The gendarmes, failing to find him 
there, started to seek him at his country-place, and 
met him on the bridge of Charenton returning to 
Paris. He was arrested and conveyed to the Temple, 
where the famous general of the Republican army 
must haye remembered another captive, King Louis 
XVI. 


VIII. 
THE CONSPIRACY. 


OREAU was arrested, and every one was ask- 

ing the cause of this unexpected event. The 
provinces were comparatively indifferent, but at Paris 
there was much excitement in the drawing-rooms, the 
cafés, and in the reunions of the officers who had be- 
longed to the Army of the Rhine. Every one was 
wondering what was the explanation of the mystery. 
The First Consul said to Madame de Rémusat: “I 
have just ordered Moreaw’s arrest. Ah! you are sur- 
prised; that will make some talk, don’t you think? 
People will say that I am jealous of Moreau, and that 
this is a bit of revenge, and a thousand platitudes of 
that sort. I jealous of Moreau! Why, he owes the 
greater part of his glory to me; I let him have a fine 
army, and kept nothing but recruits in Italy; I asked 
nothing better than to live on good terms with him. 
I certainly was not afraid of Moreau; for I am not 
afraid of any one, and least of all, of Moreau. Twenty 
times at least I have saved him from compromising 
himself; I told him that they would make trouble 
between us, and he knew it as well as I did. But he 

300 


THE CONSPIRACY. 301 


is weak and proud, the women controlled him, and 
the political parties made him their tool.” After 
speaking thus, Bonaparte went up to Josephine, took 
her by the chin, lifting her head, and said: “ Not 
every man has a good wife as I have. You are cry- 
ing, Josephine; why? are you afraid?” “No,” she 
answered, “but I don’t like to think of what will be 
said.” “But what can you do? I am not moved 
by hate or any desire of revenge; I have thought a 
long time before having Moreau arrested. I might 
have kept my eyes shut and have given him a chance 
to run away, but then it would have been said that I 
did not dare to bring him to trial. I have the means 
of convicting him; he is guilty; I am the govern- 
ment; all this will go off very simply.” 

The First Consul’s friends maintained that if 
Moreau was arrested, it was because he was guilty, 
and they defended Bonaparte against every charge 
of jealousy or injustice. But the opposition asserted 
that the conspiracy was an idle story, an invention of 
the police, and that it should not be called Moreau’s 
conspiracy, but the conspiracy against Moreau. The 
prisoner’s wife put on an air of majestic grief which 
added to the impression already produced by her 
husband’s arrest and incarceration. It was scarcely 
three months since the affair of the infernal machine ; 
and since men’s memories are short in Paris, a number 
of people held that an attempt to assassinate the First 
Consul was an impossibility. It was everywhere said 
that it was abominable to suppose that the hero of 


302 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Hohenlinden could be a criminal. It was, to be sure, 
whispered that Pichegru and Georges Cadoudal were 
in Paris, hiding in some mysterious, impenetrable 
corner; but then it was added that this was a mere 
fancy of the police, that the alleged conspirators were 
not in Paris, and they defied the government to find 
them. 

Yet there was great anxiety among those about 
Bonaparte, and ever since the autumn the men who 
had charge of his safety were in continual expecta- 
tion of a catastrophe. There were sudden alarms 
first at Saint Cloud, and afterwards at the Tuileries. 
Ségur, who had charge of the guard of the First Con- 
sul, gave the watchwords and countersigns, and took 
the most minute precautions in concert with his band 
of picked men. Every day a new attempt was feared; 
at one time it was a projected ambush near Malmaison 
from which an attack was to be made on the First 
Consul’s carriage; at another, it was a mine dug 
beneath the road through which he would have to pass, 
and where he would be stopped by a block of vehicles ; 
once, at Saint Cloud, the guards found a man leaning 
against a statue very near the door of Napoleon’s 
study, which opened on the terrace of the orange- 
house; and once, too, an officer, who was more anx- 
ious than usual, said to Ségur: “ Didn’t you see from 
the window where I always stand a stout, short man, 
with thick eyebrows, a fierce expression, whose head 
seemed sunk in his shoulders?” That tallied with 


THE CONSPIRACY. 303 


the description of the invisible and terrible Chouan, 
Georges Cadoudal. 

Early in February, 1804, at the Tuileries, Ségur, 
who was on duty, had fallen asleep on his camp-bed 
one night at about one o’clock, when he felt some 
one shaking him very hard. He sprang up, and saw 
that it was Caulaincourt, who said, “Get up! You 
must change the watchword at once, and do every- 
thing as if we were in the presence of the enemy. 
You understand me; there’s not a moment to lose.” 
Ségur immediately organized the rounds and the 
patrols in the palace, the garden, and all about, in 
such a way that every sentinel was obliged to chal- 
lenge at least three times a minute. This system 
continued many weeks, until the crisis had passed. 

Moreau was arrested February 15, and Pichegru 
on the 28th of the same month, but Georges Cadoudal, 
the head of the conspiracy, still eluded capture. The 
First Consul was very angry, and insisted that the 
police must lay hands on this man, who had long 
been laughing at them, for his arrest was absolutely 
necessary for the preliminary trial. To this end the 
most vigorous measures were taken. Paris was kept 
under close inspection. Entrance was permitted, but 
no one was allowed to leave. Any one trying to 
break this order was liable to be shot down like a dog. 
The garrison was put on a war footing; the Seine 
was covered with barges full of gendarmes; all the 
gates were kept closed; night and day Paris was sur- 
rounded by posts, bivouacs, and sentinels ; orders were 


304 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


given to fire on any one appearing outside of the 
walls. Jury trial was suspended; the concealment 
of the conspirators was declared high treason, and it 
was ordered that the concealment of any information 
about them should be punished by six years’ impris- 
onment. It was like a return to the days of the 
Terror. The First Consul pursued the conspirators 
as a hunter pursues his prey, for it was with him a 
matter of honor as well as a means of protecting his 
life. If Cadoudal eluded arrest, the plot could not 
be proved, and the government would be left in a 
detested and ridiculous position. At last, on the 9th 
of March, the terrible Chouan was hunted down. At 
about seven in the evening, when he was escaping in 
a cab, he was pursued and caught in the Carrefour 
de Bucy. He blew out the brains of one of the men 
who were running to stop the cab-horse, but the crowd 
surrounded him; resistance would have been useless ; 
he was captured. 3 

Then the public began to believe in the reality of 
the conspiracy. It was not a Republican plot, but, 
like the incident of the infernal machine, a Royalist 
plot, in which it must be acknowledged that the 
Bourbon princes had taken part. The ringleader was 
Georges Cadoudal, who was born January 1, 1771, 
at Kerléano, near Auray; he was the son of a laboring 
man, and had been the leader of the Breton Chouans. 
After he had been compelled to accept the peace nego- 
tiated by General Brune, January 2, 1800, he had 
betaken himself to Paris, where he had had a secret 


THE CONSPIRACY. 305 


interview with the First Consul. Bonaparte, who 
knew men well, and had at a glance discovered the 
Breton leader’s sturdy character, made every effort 
to win him over to his side. In a conversation that 
lasted nearly two hours he did his best to persuade 
him to choose between a position as general in com- 
mand of a division of the Army of Italy and an annual 
pension of one hundred thousand frances, on the sole 
condition that he should abstain from politics; but 
Cadoudal was inflexible. 

Bourrienne has given an account of this mysterious 
interview which took place at the Tuileries. Rapp 
introduced the famous Chouan into a drawing-room 
overlooking the garden. The doors were left open, 
and Bourrienne and Rapp, who were in the adjoining 
anteroom, saw the First Consul and Georges Cadoudal 
walking up and down the whole length of the room 
for a long time in animated conversation. At times 
their words and gestures became excited. ‘“ You don’t 
look at things in the right way,” said Bonaparte, “and 
you make a great mistake in not coming to any agree- 
ment. But if you insist on going back to your own 
country, you shall leave Paris as freely as you entered 
it.” When the talk was over, and nothing had come 
of it, the First Consul said to Rapp, ‘Tell me why 
you left the doors open and stayed there with Bour- 
rienne.” “If you had closed the door,” answered 
Rapp, “I should have opened it again.” Bonaparte, 
who took a very low view of human nature, but had 
a high feeling about matters of honor, said, ‘ For 


306 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


shame, Rapp; you would have done nothing of the 
sort! Cadoudal,” he went on, “takes a faulty view 
of things, but the exaggeration of his principles is 
due to very noble feelings, which must give him a 
great deal of influence. We must put a stop to it, 
however.” 

After this interview, the Breton chief felt insecure 
in Paris and went to England, where he was warmly 
greeted by the English government, and he received 
from Louis XVIII, through the Count of Artois, the 
position of lieutenant-general, the grand ribbon of 
Saint Louis, and a congratulatory letter on his con- 
duct. The treaty of Amiens put a stop to the plot- 
ting, but it began anew at the outbreak of hostilities. 
There was no limit to English perfidy; their minister 
at Munich set in motion a far-reaching conspiracy. 
He communicated to his agents in France a way to 
win over the guards of arsenals and powder-magazines, 
so as to be able to burn them or blow them up when- 
ever necessary. Lord Hawkesbury, in the face of all 
Europe, loudly proclaimed this doctrine, that “ every 
wise government owes it to itself to take every possi- 
ble advantage from any dissatisfaction that may exist 
in a country with which it is at war, and consequently 
it should lend aid and encouragement to the plans of 
the malcontents.” Georges Cadoudal organized his 
conspiracy with the aid of English money. He re- 
solved to go secretly to Paris, where Pichegru should 
join him, and there to enter into communication with 
Moreau, on whom he thought he could count, and to 


THE CONSPIRACY. 307 


set on foot a criminal attack on the First Consul. 
With him out of the way, Moreau and Pichegru 
would take control of the army, and Louis XVIII. 
would be called to the throne. Since he intended to 
take a band of conspirators with which to attack Bon- 
aparte surrounded by his escort, he said to himself, in 
palliation of the murder, that it would not be an 
assassination, but a fair fight: singular casuistry, 
which shows how blinding are political passions ! 
Near Dieppe, towards Biville, there is a cliff more 
than two hundred and fifty feet high, and there it 
was, less than a hundred paces from a signal-tower 
occupied by a lookout, which, however, left it at 
night, that Cadoudal mysteriously returned to France, 
August 22, 1808. A rope as thick as a merchant- 
vessel’s cable was let down the cliff; it was made 
fast to a series of stakes set deep in the earth every 
six feet. It was in nightly use by smugglers, — the 
last to ascend coiling the rope and fastening it to a 
post in order to hide it from the patrol below; and 
by this perilous climb Cadoudal, and a few weeks 
later, Riviere, Polignac, General Pichegru, and many 
other conspirators were able to enter the country. 
Hiding by day and advancing by night they suc- 
ceeded in reaching Paris in disguise, and there fora 
long time they eluded the police. Pichegru, who 
had landed at the cliff of Biville January 16, 1804, 
was in Paris four days later. He had an interview 
with Moreau one dark night on the boulevard de 
la Madeleine. The two generals had not met since 


308 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


the time when they had fought together so gloriously 
on the banks of the Rhine. They were joined by 
Cadoudal, to Moreau’s great surprise and evident 
annoyance, for he was anxious to work for himself 
rather than for the Chouans. “ This is a bad begin- 
ning,” the Breton leader said to himself; and a few 
days later, when he saw that the intriguers had mis- 
led him with regard to Moreau’s real intentions, he 
said, ‘“ Usurper for usurper; I prefer the one who 
now governs to this Moreau who has no head and no 
heart.” Pichegru did not deceive himself about his 
old comrade; he said, with some bitterness, ‘‘ He, too, 
is ambitious and wants to govern France; but, poor 
fellow, he couldn’t govern it twenty-four hours.” 
Meanwhile, the Count of Artois, who was misled by 
false reports, exclaimed with joy, “Since our two 
generals agree, I shall soon be back in France.” 
The conqueror of Holland was given up by a treach- 
erous friend. “Pichegru,” said Napoleon, “was a 
victim of the most infamous treachery. It was a 
disgrace to humanity; his intimate friend sold him; 
this man, whom I will not mention by name, so 
odious and disgusting was his action, an old officer, 
since then in business at Lyons, came with an offer 
to give him up for a hundred thousand crowns.” 

All this is like a novel, or a melodrama, with this 
curious setting and series of adventures, with the 
mysterious, invisible men who defy the police; with 
the Biville cliffs at which English boats secretly 
touch in the darkness; the hiding in the woods, and 


THE CONSPIRACY. 309 


in the very heart of Paris; the bold Breton who 
plays fearlessly with danger and death; the hero of 
Hohenlinden arrested like a common criminal; the 
conqueror of Holland banished and tracked like a 
wild beast! All these strange, unexpected incidents 
were very impressive, and threw a gloom over our 
giddy Paris. There spread vague rumors of the 
speedy arrival on French territory of a prince of the 
house of Bourbon. Was it the Count of Artois, the 
Duke of Berry, the Duke of Angouléme, the Duke of 
Enghien? Were the Vendeans going to renew the 
fight? Did the English mean to land troops, arms, 
and supplies on the coast? Was the First Consul to 
be assassinated? And was he to be killed with a 
dagger, or by a new infernal machine? And what 
would happen then? Would the Republic or a mon- 
archy be established? All the questions were an- 
swered by each party according to its wishes. 
Meanwhile Bonaparte was uneasy, nervous, agi- 
tated; and he watched at the same time Paris, the 
provinces, and foreign countries, observing the Ven- 
deans, England, and the Rhine, ready to ward the 
blow, from whatever quarter it might come. He was 
in a state of extreme tension; and he employed all 
his resources as a tactician, all his activity as general, 
as if he were on the field of battle. He commanded 
the agents of the secret police as if they were soldiers, 
stimulating the activity of the picked force who all 
had the most ardent devotion to his person. The 
instinct of self-preservation put him in the state of 


310 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


legitimate defence. It is easy to understand the 
wrath that filled him, believing what he had so often 
been told, that he was the regenerator, the saviour of 
France, the Messiah of the nineteenth century, when 
he thought that a miserable band of assassins might 
perhaps destroy him and his vast work. Naturally 
he was indignant with the perfidy of England in 
hiring murderers and putting weapons in their hands ; 
and with the ungrateful émigrés, of whom he asked 
nothing more than they should return to their estates 
and their country, while they expressed their grati- 
tude by these abominable plots. It is easy to under- 
stand what must have filled the soul of a man so 
violent and impetuous, who was accustomed to tri- 
umph over every obstacle. 

Nor is it difficult to picture Josephine’s distress 
when she saw her husband and herself so beset with 
perils. But with her experience of danger, she kept 
up a good heart. In the Reign of Terror, on the 
evening of the infernal machine, she had seen death 
near her without a tremor. With all her anxiety, 
she did not lose her head; she continued to be amia- 
ble and kindly, appeasing and advising her irascible 
husband. She especially urged that a distinction 
should be made between the innocent and the guilty, 
and that no steps should be taken under the impulse 
of blind fury. She maintained that the whole Royalist 
party was not to be held responsible for the excesses 
of a handful of fanatics. Unfortunately for Napoleon, 
he refused to listen to Josephine; in his exasperation 


THE CONSPIRACY. 311 


he lost all self-control; he yearned to do something 
terrible, to strike some strong blow. He represented 
vengeance ; his wife, kindness. At the Tuileries there 
was a struggle between anger and pity. The Consu- 
lar Court put on a gloomy aspect, and every one 
wondered whether Bonaparte was to be victim or 
executioner. What is more inauspicious than the 
prologue of the eventful drama, called the death of 
the Duke of Enghien ? 


IX. 
THE ARREST OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN, 


OTHING so disturbs and upsets rulers as plots 
against their lives. ‘The same man who, on the 
battlefield, looks at death without a quiver, loses his 
self-control when he thinks that he is encompassed 
by assassins. The thought that the freak of a fanatic, 
of a madman, may overthrow the vast structure of 
power and pride, this bitter and cruel thought recall- 
ing to the great man — sunk in infatuation with him- 
self — the nothingness of human life and the irony of 
fate, becomes an incessant torture. A paltry kitchen 
knife may strike down the most formidable sword, 
the most majestic sceptre. The merest fool may make 
of triumphant Cesar a corpse. The men who are 
most fearless before the enemy cannot accustom them- 
selves to this idea. They see murderers everywhere ; 
inoffensive persons appear to them as terrible as 
spectres. A profound sadness and melancholy accom- 
pany this anxiety. A man of powerful imagination 
thus haunted by gloomy visions loses all the cool 
wisdom of a statesman; anger, revenge, the instinct 
of self-preservation drive him to extreme steps. 
312 


ARREST OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 818 


Bonaparte’s irritation grew continually. The arrest 
of the Bourbon aides-de-camp, who were allied with 
Georges Cadoudal and Cadoudal’s own confessions 
only added to it. He waited with feverish im- 
patience for news from Colonel Savary, who, with 
men in disguise, had for some weeks been watching 
the cliff at Biville, not far from Dieppe, where it was 
expected that a prince would land as the conspirators 
had done. There were jutting rocks beneath the cliff 
so that a landing could be made only at high tide 
and with a smooth sea. Savary, who was always on 
the watch, saw no one land there; Captain Wright’s 
brig, on board of which the prince was supposed to 
be, appeared one evening and tacked about, but no 
one came ashore from it. 

Thereupon Bonaparte turned his attention to the 
banks of the Rhine. He knew that the Duke of 
Enghien, son of the Duke of Bourbon, and a Princess 
of Orleans was then at Ettenheim, in the Grand 
Duchy of Baden. This Prince, who was born in 
1772, was renowned for his bravery; in Condé’s army 
he was regarded as a hero. After the battle of 
Bersheim he had given proof of a noble humanity, by 
saving the life of the French prisoners whom the émi- 
grés wished to shoot in retaliation. In 1801 in con- 
sequence of the treaty of Lunéville, he had to lay 
down his arms and inhabit Ettenheim, a former resi- 
dence of the Cardinal of Rohan, on the right bank of 
the Rhine, four leagues from Strassburg. There he 
lived as @ plain private citizen, in the society of a 


314 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


young and charming woman who warmly loved him, 
the Princess of Rohan. He cultivated flowers, 
hunted, and with youthful carelessness scorned the 
wise advice of those who blamed him for living so 
near the French frontier. It was even thought that 
he carried his boldness so far as to go occasionally to 
Strassburg, when, if rumor was true, he would go 
quietly to the theatre. But his father had written 
to him from London: “ You are very near, take care, 
and take every precaution to get word in time and to 
get off in safety, in case it should enter the Consul’s 
head to abduct you. Don’t think that there is any 
courage in foolhardiness in this respect.” This letter 
was dated June 6, 1808. 

When Bonaparte learned of the non-arrival of any 
Bourbon prince by the cliff at Biville, he imagined 
that it was through Alsace that one of the princes, 
probably the Duke of Enghien, would enter France. 
He sent to Ettenheim an under officer of the gen- 
darmes in disguise, to secure secret information. 
At that time there was with the Duke of Enghien 
an émigré, General, the Marquis of Thumery, and the 
way in which the Germans pronounced this name 
(Thoumeriez) led the under officer to think that the 
hero of Jemmapes (Dumouriez) was with the prince, 
and he made haste to send a report to this effect, 
adding that the Duke of Enghien had often entered 
France, according to some, going only as far as 
Strassburg, but according to others, as far as Paris. 
This report arrived March 10, 1804. “What!” 


ARREST OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 810 


shouted the First Consul, when he saw M. Réal come 
in, “ You didn’t tell me that the Duke of Enghien is 
only four leagues from the frontier! Am I a dog to 
be knocked on the head in the street? Are my mur- 
derers sacred? Why didn’t you tell me they were 
gathering at Ettenheim? This is a direct attack. 
It is time for me to fight fire with fire. The culprit’s 
head shall pay for it.” 

That same morning a servant of Cadoudal, named 
Léridant, who was arrested with his master, had testi- 
fied that a young man, well dressed, and an object of 
general respect, had often visited the conspirators in 
Paris. Bonaparte immediately decided that this 
young man must have been the Duke of Enghien. 
Often the vulgarest details, the pettiest circum- 
stances, settle the destiny of the world. If the Ger- 
mans of Ettenheim had pronounced the name of the 
Marquis of Thumery a little less incorrectly, if a ser- 
vant had not mentioned a person who was wrongly 
supposed to be the last of the Condés, perhaps Napo- 
leon’s diadem would not have borne this bloody stain. 
The whole affair bears the mark of fatality. The 
First Consul, had he been cool and in possession of 
full information, would not have committed the deed 
of which he was guilty under the influence of passion, 
misled by inaccurate reports. 

A council was held March 10, at the Tuileries, 
when were present the three Consuls, the ministers, 
and Fouché. In spite of the opposition of Camba- 
cérés, it was decided that the Duke of Enghien and 


816 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


the alleged General Dumouriez should be abducted 
from Ettenheim by French troops, and that Colonel 
de Caulaincourt should take to the Grand Duke of 
Baden a letter explaining this violation of German 
territory. Caulaincourt, who was related to the 
Condés, had no knowledge of the contents of the 
letter; but yet he was uneasy. After the council, 
March 10, he received the order to depart imme- 
diately, as did Colonel Ordener, who was to com- 
mand the fatal expedition. 

Five days later, March 15, Colonel Ordener, with 
thirty men of the Twenty-sixth Dragoons and twenty- 
five gendarmes, crossed the Rhine at Rheinau, nearly 
opposite Ettenheim, leaving three squadrons of dra- 
goons in reserve on the left bank. The little party 
under Ordener’s command advanced rapidly in the 
darkness, and passed through three slumbering vil- 
lages without being seen. It was about dawn when 
they reached Ettenheim. They surrounded the house 
in which was the Duke of Enghien with two aides- 
de-camp, eleven servants, nearly two and a half mil- 
lion frances in a money-box, and loaded firearms. One 
of the two aides, General de Grunstein, hastened to 
the prince’s chamber when he heard the boots of the 
gendarmes on the pavement and the clatter of their 
weapons. He shouted out, “ You are surrounded!” 
Then the Duke of Enghien sprang out of bed, seized 
a double-barrelled gun, threw open a window, and 
took aim at Major Charlot, the commander of the 
gendarmes. There were twenty windows opening on 


ARREST OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 817 


the street, and from these the prince’s servants might 
have fired on their assailants, while the prince, per- 
haps, might have got away on the other side of the 
house, and have fled towards the mountain. But just 
as he was taking aim, was about to fire the shot 
which would have been the signal for the fight to 
begin, M. de Grunstein put his hand on the prince’s 
gun and prevented him firing. “Gentlemen,” said 
Major Charlot, “we are here in force; don’t resist, 
it would do no good.” Then the gendarmes entered 
the house, and the prince let himself be disarmed. 
They looked everywhere for General Dumouriez, 
but they found only the Marquis of Thumery, whose 
name had given rise to this fatal error. Major Char- 
lot examined M. de Grunstein; and the Duke broke 
in, “If it had not been for him, I should have killed 
you; you owe your life to him.” When they were 
seizing his papers, he said, “ Don’t be surprised, you 
are going to see the correspondence of a Bourbon, of 
a prince of the blood of Henry IV.” Remembering 
that there were a good many letters of the Princess 
of Rohan in the package they had seized, he added, 
“T hope you will exercise all possible discretion about 
things that don’t concern the government.” 

A few minutes later, the gendarmes led away the 
unfortunate prince with his two aides-de-camp and 
some of his servants. The Duke passed through 
Ettenheim on foot; at the town gate he was met by 
Colonel Ordener, who had him carried in a peasant’s 
cart to the river, which he crossed in a boat, thence 


318 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


he was driven in a carriage to Strassburg, and locked 
up in the citadel. On the way, the prisoner said to 
Major Charlot: “This expedition must have been 
prepared very secretly, and I am surprised that I 
didn’t get wind of it, for Iam popular at Ettenheim. 
You would not have found me this evening, for yes- 
terday the Princess of Rohan besought me to leave; 
but I postponed my departure under the impression 
that you would not have time to get here to-night. 
IT am sure that she will come and want to follow me; 
she is very much attached to me; treat her well.” 
The unfortunate duke was right; Madame de 
Rohan wished to share his lot. She reached the 
citadel in tears, begging for permission to see the 
prince, to go to Paris where doubtless she would have 
tried to move Bonaparte. Her efforts were vain; the 
poor young woman was never again to see the man 
she loved; she could not even take leave of him, 
even see him a single moment. Not only was she 
expelled from the citadel, but she was arrested and 
forbidden to go to Paris. ‘Am I to be prisoner for 
the rest of my life?” the duke asked sadly; “I esteem 
Bonaparte and look upon him as a great man; but he 
is not a Bourbon, he has no right to rule France; he 
ought to restore the crown to my family.” He re- 
mained in the citadel of Strassburg from the 15th of 
March till the morning of the 18th, when he was 
awakened and told that he was to depart alone, with- 
out his aides-de-camp and his servants. After dress- 
ing hastily he said to them, “ My friends, I am sorry 


ARREST OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 3819 


that J can do nothing more for you.” Then he got 
into the post-chaise which was to carry him directly 
to Vincennes, the termination of this fatal journey. 

What was going on meanwhile in Bonaparte’s 
mind? He was gloomy and agitated, and he pre-. 
served an ominous silence. No one dared speak to 
him. It was a Sunday, — Palm Sunday, —and mass 
was said at the Tuileries as usual. After mass, 
Josephine told Madame de Rémusat that she was go- 
ing to spend the week at Malmaison. “I am very 
glad of it,” she added, “for Paris frightens me now.” 
A few hours later, the carriages of the Consular Court 
started from the Tuileries for Malmaison; in one was 
Bonaparte, in the other, Josephine with Madame de 
Rémusat. On the way thither the following dialogue 
took place between the two women. “Iam going to 
tell you a great secret. This morning Bonaparte told 
me that he had sent M. de Caulaincourt to the fron- 
tier to seize the Duke of Enghien. He is to be 
brought here.” ‘Heavens! and what are they going 
to do with him?” “Apparently he is to be tried. [ 
have done my best to get him to promise that the 
prince shall not be put to death, but I am much 
afraid that his mind is made up.” ‘“ What! you 
think he will have him put to death?” “I am 
afraid so.” 

The two women were in great consternation when 
they reached Malmaison, where they were obliged to 
conceal their emotions. The next day, Monday, 
March 19, in the morning, Madame Bonaparte had 


320 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


a cypress set out in a part of the garden which had 
just been arranged. “Ah! Madame,” said to her 
Madame de Rémusat, “that tree is very appropriate 
to the day.” 

Tuesday, March 20, the Duke of Enghien reached 
Paris with his guard at eleven in the morning. He 
was kept in his carriage at the gates for part of the 
day, and at four in the afternoon he was driven by 
the outer boulevards to the Castle of Vincennes. 

Meanwhile Bonaparte at Malmaison assumed a 
calmness which he did not feel. After dinner he 
played with his nephew, the young Napoleon, Louis’s 
son. Observing Madame de Rémusat’s pallor, he 
said to her, “ Why didn’t you rouge? You are too 
pale.” She replied that she had forgotten it. “What! 
a woman forgetting to rouge! You would never do 
that, Josephine. Two things are always becoming to 
women, — rouge and tears.” | 

Then he began a game of chess with Madame de 
Rémusat, and while playing he repeated to himself 
these lines from Voltaire: — 


Of the gods we worship, know then the difference : 
Thine have commanded thee murder and vengeance ; 
And mine, when thy hand has but just now slain me, 
Orders me to pity thee and to forgive thee. 


He repeated also Corneille’s great scene : — 
Let us be friends, Cinna; it is I who ask thee. 


But it was not clemency that was to prevail. 


X. 
THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 


ARCH 20, before the end of the day, the Duke 
of Enghien, who had no anticipations of what 
awaited him, reached the Castle of Vincennes, where 
he was to die. The castle was then dilapidated and 
unused. The governor, one Harrel, had received 
orders to prepare accommodations for a prisoner ; and 
he had also been requested to dig a grave in the 
courtyard. He answered that this was not easy, since 
the courtyard was paved. He was told to choose 
another place, and he accordingly had it dug in the 
moat which encircled the building. The Prince was 
hungry, and they sent out into the village for food. 
He sat down to the table, and, while eating, ques- 
tioned Harrel about Vincennes and all that had hap- 
pened there since the Revolution. He said he had 
been brought up near the castle, and added, ‘* What 
do they want of me? What are they going to do 
with me?” But his words and his face expressed. no 
anxiety; and after dinner, being tired from his jour- 
ney, he went to bed in perfect calmness. 
Meanwhile the preparations for the tragedy were 
321 


822 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


going on. The First Consul had the orders made 
out, and signed them himself. Then at about five in 
the evening, he had Colonel Savary, the commander 
of the picked band of gendarmes, summoned to his 
room, where he gave him a sealed letter, with orders 
to carry it without a moment’s delay to General 
Murat, the governor of Paris. When he reached 
Murat’s house, Savary met Talleyrand, the Minister 
of Foreign Affairs, coming out. The colonel was in 
complete ignorance of what was going to happen; 
and he was expecting to return to Malmaison, when 
he received orders to take the command, in addition 
to his gendarmes, of a brigade of infantry which was 
to be that same evening at the Saint Antoine gate; 
and this force he was to lead to Vincennes. Savary 
led the gendarmes through the castle gate, and drew 
them up in the courtyard, cutting off all communica- 
tion with the outside. He then posted the brigade 
of infantry on the esplanade, on the side of the park. 
Meanwhile the military commission that was to try 
the Duke of Enghien was assembling. It was com- 
posed as follows: General Hulin, commander of the 
foot grenadiers of the Consular Guard, president; five 
colonels of the Paris garrison, judges; and a major 
of the picked gendarmes, secretary. The meeting 
was held in one of the large rooms of the inhabited 
portion of the castle; that is to say, the building 
over the entrance, towards the park. 

At midnight the unfortunate Prince was examined ; 
at two o’clock in the morning he appeared before the 


DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. $23 


military commission. The spectators were one of 
Murat’s aides, some officers and gendarmes. The 
accused had no defender. He answered the ques- 
tions put to him with calmness and dignity. He con- 
fessed that he had served against France, and that he 
was ready to serve again in the same way; but he 
denied all affiliation with Pichegru, who, he said, if 
report was true, employed abominable methods. He 
concluded by expressing, first by word of mouth, then 
by writing, his desire to see the First Consul. ‘“ My 
name, my rank,” he added, “my way of thinking, and 
the horrors of my position convince me that Bona- 
parte will not refuse my request.” 

But the victim was mistaken. The orders brought 
by Savary were peremptory; they provided that, in 
case of condemnation, — and condemnation was cer- 
tain, —the sentence should follow at once. Every- 
thing must be done that very night. The judges, after 
unanimously convicting the Prince, were willing to 
send his letter to the First Consul, but that was use- 
less. 

While they were deliberating about his sentence, 
the Duke of Enghien had gone back to his room, and. 
there he had lain down on his bed and fallen asleep. 
When the matter was settled, they came to awaken 
him and led him away. He was so free from any 
anticipation of what was about to happen, that as he 
went down the stairs to the ditch he asked where 
they were going to take him, but he received no 
answer. Harrel went in front with a lantern. When 


324 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 

he felt the cold air rising from below, the unhappy 
young man pressed Harrel’s arm and asked, “Are 
they going to put me ina dungeon?” It was nota 
dungeon that was opening for him; it was the grave. 
When they got out into the ditch, he was stationed 
before the squad who were to shoot him. Then when 
the whole truth dawned before him, he wrote a letter 
to be sent with a ring and a lock of his hair to 
Madame de Rohan, and prepared for death like a true 
heir of the great Condé. When some one proposed 
that his eyes should be bandaged, he declined with 
dignity, and, addressing the soldiers who were to 
shoot him, he said, very gently: “ You are French- 
men. You will, Iam sure, do me the great favor not 
to miss me.” Then he fell, his body riddled with 
balls. 

The day was beginning to dawn when Savary 
started for Malmaison, where he was to report to 
Bonaparte what had just taken place. On the way 
he met Réal, a Councillor of State, who was going, 
too late, to Vincennes. An order had been sent to 
him to examine the prisoner with regard to his al- 
leged complicity with Cadoudal and Pichegru, but 
he was asleep when the order reached his house; and 
he was worn out by some work which had taken sey- 
eral days and nights. He had given orders to his 
servants that he was on no account to be disturbed. 
Thus he had no knowledge of the letter until it was 
too late to save the victim. 

At Malmaison, Savary at once entered Bonaparte’s 


bo 
on 


DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 3 


study. “The First Consul,” he says in his Memoirs, 
“seemed to hear me with great surprise. He could 
not understand why he had been tried before Réal’s 
arrival, for he had sent orders to him to go to Vin- 
cennes to examine the prisoner. He looked at me 
with his lynx eyes, and said: ‘There is something 
here I don’t understand. That the Commission 
should have given its verdict on the confession of 
the Duke of Enghien does not surprise me, but this 
confession was only made at a trial which should not 
have taken place until after M. Réal had examined 
him on a matter which it was of importance for us 
to have cleared up.” Then he said again, ‘ There is 
something here beyond me. A crime has been com- 
mitted which leads to nothing !’” 

Savary then went into the drawing-room, where he 
awaited Madame Bonaparte. His face was very pale 
and bore marks of agitation. As soon as Josephine ap- 
peared, she said, “Well, it’s over?” ‘Yes, madame,” 
he answered; ‘“ he died this morning, and, I must say, 
with great courage. After his death permission was 
given the gendarmes to take his clothes, his watch, 
what money he had on his person; but no one would 
touch him. People may say what they please; it is 
impossible to see such men die as calmly as one can 
see others; and as for me, I find it hard to recover 
myself.” 

Then came Eugene de Beauharnais. “My mother 
was in tears,” he says in his Memoirs, “and was 
bitterly reproaching the First Consul, who listened 


326 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Tol 


in silence and soon withdrew to his study. In a few 
moments Caulaincourt entered, just back from Strass- 
burg. He was surprised to find my mother in dis- 
tress, and she hastened to state the cause. When he 
heard the whole story, he beat his brow and pulled 
out his hair, saying, ‘Why was I mixed up in this 
unhappy business ?’” 

When Madame de Rémusat saw Caulaincourt, she 
started back. ‘And you, too,” he said, “you are 
going to hate me, and yet I am only unfortunate, but 
very unfortunate. In reward for my devotion the 
First Consul is going to disgrace me. I have been 
shamefully deceived, and I am a ruined man!” 

The dinner-hour came; besides those regularly in 
attendance, there were present Louis Bonaparte and 
his wife, Eugene de Beauharnais, Colonel de Caulain- 
court, and General Hulin. “The sight of this man _ 
impressed me most unpleasantly,” said Madame de 
Rémusat, who was one of the company. “The First 
Consul did not assume any gayety; on the con- 
trary, throughout the dinner he remained sunk in 
deep thought, and we were all very silent. Just as 
we were about to leave the table, the Consul, as if 
thinking aloud, said in a harsh, dry voice, ‘At any 
rate, they will see what we are capable of, and I hope 
that in the future they will leave us alone.’ ” 

After dinner they went into the drawing-room, and 
one after another there appeared Joseph Bonaparte, 
M. Bacciochi and his wife, with M. de Fontanes, 
Murat, Dubois, the Prefect of Police, some Council- 


DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. O27 


lors of State, and other officials. After a long con- 
versation on many literary and historical subjects, the 
First Consul had some extracts read from the corre- 
spondence of Drake, the English minister at Munich, 
who had had a hand in the recent conspiracies. When 
the reading was finished, Bonaparte said: “These are 
undeniable proofs. These people want to kindle dis- 
order in France, and kill the Revolution as embodied 
inme. I have shown of what it is capable. I have 
been obliged to defend and avenge it.... Ihave 
shed blood; I had to do it, simply because bleeding 
figures in political medicine. J am the man of the 
State, I am the French Revolution, I say once more, 
and I shall uphold it.” 

This was a gloomy period at Malmaison this week 
in March, just when the spring was beginning. This 
brilliant residence, once so animated, so joyful, became 
a sombre spot. Josephine, generally so affable, grew 
anxious, fearing both to speak and to keep silence. 
Bourrienne thus describes a visit which he made 
Thursday, March 22. “On arriving, I was at once 
taken to her boudoir, where she was sitting with Hor: 
tense and Madame de Rémusat. I found them all 
three in great dejection. . .. ‘Ah! Bourrienne,’ 
said Josephine when she saw me, ‘what a terrible 
misfortune! ... At any rate, no one can say that 
it’s my fault, for I did everything that I could to turn 
him from this project. He had not said anything to 
me about it; but you know how I read him, and he 
admitted everything. He was indifferent to all my 


828 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


prayers. I hung about his neck, I clasped his knees, 
—‘“Mind your own affairs!” he shouted in anger, 
“this is not a woman’s business.” ’” 

Josephine added, in great emotion, ‘“ What must 
people think in Paris? I am sure that every one must 
be cursing him; for here, even his flatterers seem 
downcast when they are out of his presence. Ever 
since yesterday we have been very depressed. And 
he! You know what he is when he is not satisfied 
with himself and yet tries to seem so; no one dares 
to speak to him, and we are all in deep gloom... . 
How Savary distressed me yesterday when he came 
to me to see about something the Duke of Enghien 
entrusted him with before his death. Here is his 
portrait and the lock of his hair which he wanted me 
to send to some one who was very dear to him. Savary 
almost had tears in his eyes when he told me about 
the duke’s last moments, and when he tried to re- 
cover himself he said, ‘It’s no use, madame, one 
can’t see a man like that die and not be moved.’ ” 

While Josephine was grieving, Talleyrand, the 
Minister of Foreign Affairs, was giving an entertain- 
ment to which the whole Diplomatic Body was in- 
vited. Count Miot de Melito speaks of it in his 
Memoirs as follows: ‘ Amid all these scenes of terror 
and alarm, M. de Talleyrand found a way to distin- 
guish himself by a piece of marked flattery ; he gave 
a ball three days after the death of the Duke of 
Enghien. Two months before, Madame de Talley- 
rand had refused an invitation to a ball to be given 


DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 329 


by M. de Cobentzel, the Austrian ambassador, on the 
21st of January, the anniversary of the execution of 
Louis XVI. How can one dance on that day? she 
said, and the Minister put it off to another day. 
What needs to be said of these scruples and of the 
indecency of an entertainment given, one might almost 
say, when the guns were firing which had just killed 
a relative of the same Louis XVI?” 

At the end of the week the First Consul left 
Malmaison and returned to the Tuileries. On Palm 
Sunday, March 25, mass was celebrated as usual in 
the chapel of the palace. General de Ségur, who was 
- present, thus describes the scene: “ Bonaparte made 
his way through the silent crowd that opened to let 
him pass. There was no change in his face. During 
the prayer, when the host was elevated, I watched 
him with renewed attention. Then, before God, in 
presence of his victim whom I seemed to see in his 
gore finding refuge at this Supreme tribunal, still 
bearing the traces of his swift punishment, I thought 
in my agonized heart that some remorse or at least 
some regret would show itself on the features of a 
man who had done so cruel a deed; but, whatever 
may have been his feelings, nothing about him 
changed; he remained calm, and through the tears 
that filled my eyes, I saw his face like that of a stern, 
impassible judge.” 

The mass over, the First Consul, as usual, betook 
himself to the large rooms of the palace where there 
awaited him every Sunday a throng of courtiers and 


330 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


suitors. ‘I had just seen him in the presence of 
God,” adds General de Ségur, “I wanted to see him in 
the presence of men, hence I kept close to him in the 
audience that followed. His manner was alternately 
one of forced calm, and of gloom, but he was more 
readily approached than was usual. He walked slowly 
up and down the great rooms, more slowly than was 
his wont, and he himself seemed to notice this. He 
stopped at almost every step, letting the crowd gather 
about him and saying a few words to everybody. He 
made continual reference, directly or indirectly, to 
the night between the 20th and 21st of March. He 
was evidently sounding public opinion, waiting, even 
suggesting answers which he hoped would be satis- 
factory, but he only got one; it was intended for 
flattery, but it was so clumsy that he interrupted it 
and turned his back; it unintentionally charged him 
with meeting an attempt at murder with murder 
itself.” 

The arrest of the victim on the soil of Baden 
inspired the Russian government to make vigorous 
remonstrances against this violation of the territory 
of the German Empire. The First Consul replied in 
the Moniteur with an article recalling the assassina- 
tion of Paul I. At St. Petersburg a funeral service 
was held for the peace of the soul of the young Condé. 
On the cenotaph was this inscription: ‘To the Duke 
of Enghien, guem devoravit bellua corsica.” 

“The two foes,” Chateaubriand said, “had an 
apparent reconciliation; but the wound which poli- 


DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. — 38) 
tics made, and insult enlarged, remained in the heart 
of each. Napoleon thought himself avenged only 
when he slept at Moscow; Alexander was satisfied 
only when he entered Paris.” 

An uneasy conscience tormented every one of the 
men who took part in this terrible affair. Napoleon 
and every one of his assistants tried to justify the 
action; and their efforts attest their anxiety. His 
share in it racked the martyr of St. Helena with cruel 
memories on his lonely rock; he kept returning to it 
continually, and his explanations were contradictory. 
His companion, the Count of Las Cases, wrote thus 
in the ‘“ Memorial of St. Helena”: “The Emperor 
often spoke of this subject, and when he did, as on 
many other occasions, I could see the private citizen 
struggling with the public man, and the natural senti- 
ments of his heart contending with his pride and the 
dignity of his position. In the freedom of intimacy, 
he did not show indifference to the fate of the unhappy 
prince. One day, after he had spoken to me of his 
youth and sad fate, he concluded thus: ‘ And I have 
learned since that he favored me; I have been told 
that he never spoke of me without expressing admira- 
tion, and yet that is the way justice is distributed in 
this world!’” 

That was the way Napoleon spoke of it in the free- 
dom of private talk, but in the presence of strangers 
his language was very different: “The Duke of En- 
ghien and all his allies had no other aim than to kill 
me; I was threatened from all sides and at every 


332 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


moment. There were infernal machines, conspiracies, 
ambushes of all sorts. I grew tired of them. I 
grasped the opportunity to fill even London with ter- 
ror and I succeeded init. From that day the plotting 
ceased. And who can find any fault with what I 
did? What! every day from a distance of a hundred 
and fifty leagues these men could aim their death- 
blows at me; no power, no tribunal could protect me, 
and I was to be denied the natural privilege of meet- 
ing force with force? ... Blood cries for blood; it 
is the natural, inevitable, infallible reaction; unhappy 
he who provokes it! ... One must be foolish or 
mad to imagine that a family could have the strange 
privilege of attacking me every day, while I should 
not have the right of retaliation. They certainly 
could not reasonably suppose themselves superior to 
the law for the purpose of attacking others, and then 
reclaim their protection for self-defence; the condi- 
tions ought to be equal. Personally I had never 
done anything to any one of them; a great nation 
had placed me at its head; almost the whole of Eu- 
rope had assented to this choice; my blood after all 
was not mud, it was time to make it equal to their 
own.” 

That is the way Napoleon talked before strangers, 
but to his intimates he let fall this confession: “ Cer- 
tainly, if I had known in time certain particulars con- 
cerning the opinions and character of the prince, and 
especially if I had seen the letter that he wrote to me, 
which was not delivered — Heaven knows why — until 


DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 333 


after his death, certainly I should have pardoned him.” 
After recounting this conversation, Las Cases goes on: 
« And we saw clearly that these words of the Emperor 
expressed his real feeling and character, and for us 
alone, for he would have felt humiliated if any one 
had imagined for a moment that he was trying to lay 
the blame on any one else or condescending to defend 
himself. His fear of this or his sensitiveness was 
such that, when he was speaking to strangers or dic- 
tating for the public, he would limit himself to the 
assertion that if he had had knowledge of the prince’s 
letter, he should have perhaps pardoned him in view 
of the great political advantages of such a course. 
And in writing down his last thoughts, which he 
knew would be regarded with reverence by his con- 
temporaries and by posterity, he said on this subject, 
which he knew was one of great importance to his 
reputation, that if it were to be done over, he should 
act in the same way. Such was the man, such the 
quality of his mind, the nature of his character.” 
Before the altar at the mass of the Tuileries, before 
eternity at Saint Helena, Napoleon tried to harden 
himself against remorse. He wrote in his will: “I 
had the Duke of Enghien arrested and tried, because 
it was necessary for the security, the interest, and the 
honor of the French people, when the Count of Artois, 
by his own confession, was keeping sixty assassins in 
Paris. In similar circumstances I should do the same 
thing.’ Yet those who forgive the great Emperor 
so many victories cannot forgive this drop of blood. 


334 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


The great singer of Napoleon, Victor Hugo, who 
called Napoleon the sun of which he was the Mem- 
non, could not forget the moat of Vincennes in the 
magnificent poem in which he sings the dialogue of 
praise and denunciation. Lamartine, severer even 
than Chateaubriand, in his “* Ode to Bonaparte,” has 
also written this: “* His tomb has been built beneath 
the vaults erected at the Invalides by Louis XIV., 
where the statues of twelve victories, each carved 
from a single granite block, and forming part of the 
massive pillars that support the temple, seem to form 
the guard of centuries round the porphyry urn that 
contains his ashes. But in the shadow, seated on his 
erave, there is an invisible statue, which darkens and 
dims all the others; it is the statue of a young man, 
torn by midnight ruffians from the arms of the woman 
he loved, from the inviolable asylum in which he 
thought himself secure, assassinated by the light of 
a lantern at the foot of the palace of his fathers. A 
cold curiosity carries the visitor to the battlefields of 
Marengo, Austerlitz, Wagram, Leipsic, Waterloo ; 
he wanders over them with dry eyes; but one is 
shown, at a corner of the wall near the foundations 
of Vincennes, at the bottom of a ditch, a spot cov- 
ered with nettles and weeds; he says, ‘ There it is!’ 
he utters a cry, and carries away with him undying 
pity for the victim and an implacable resentment 
against the assassin. This resentment is vengeance 
for the past and a lesson for the future. Let the 
ambitious, whether soldiers, tribunes, or kings, re- 


DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ENGHIEN. 335 


member that if they have hirelings to do their will, 
and flatterers to excuse them while they reign, there 
yet comes afterwards a human conscience to judge 
them, and pity to hate them. The murderer has but 
one hour; the victim has eternity.” 

The crimes of the Legitimists do not justify the 
imitation of their misdeeds, or render the Duke of 
Enghien responsible for acts in which he had no part. 
Humanity is a sad thing! What great man is abso- 
lutely pure? What party is unsullied? There are 
stains on Royalists, Republicans, Imperialists ; no sun 
free of spots. We are told that the augurs could not 
look at one another withont laughing; may we not 
say that the different parties in France cannot look 
at one another without shuddering? Why was it 
that Napoleon, after seizing the Duke of Enghien, to 
show his power, did not set him free, satisfying him- 
self with saying, “I might have put you to death! 
I forgive you”? What a better way of laying the 
foundation of the Empire with this act of clemency! 
It would have been a stroke of genius to disclose the 
plots of the Bourbons, their complicity in detestable 
conspiracies, and then to set free the heir of the 
Condés in memory of the hero of Rocroy! What 
true-hearted Royalist would not have admired the 
great man? That wou!d have been to act like a hero, 
a way of disarming hate, of preventing coalitions, of 
wringing from Europe a cry of gratitude and surprise, 
of doing something noble, grand, sublime. As a mat- 
ter of fact, there is nothing more politic or wiser than 


336 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


virtue. Iam sure that often when he recalled the 
death of the Duke of Enghien, Napoleon must have 
repented in the bottom of his heart that he had not 
followed the recommendations of clemency that were 
urged upon him by Josephine, his best friend. 


XI. 
THE LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. 


HERE is no city in the world where memories 

are shorter than in Paris. The impression made 
by the death of the Duke of Enghien was brief as it 
was deep. As M. Paul de Rémusat has said in the 
preface of his grandmother’s Memoirs, ‘ Even in the 
Royalists, who were absolutely hostile to the govern- 
ment, this event called forth more grief than indig- 
nation, so confused were men’s ideas upon questions of 
political justice and statecraft.” Yet on the day after 
the event the First Consul had been struck by the 
altered faces of those he met. But far from being 
alarmed, he was anxious to show himself in public as 
usual, and he went with his wife to the opera, although 
some people advised him to wait a little. Madame 
de Rémusat tells us that she accompanied Madame 
Bonaparte, whose carriage followed close behind that 
of the First Consul. Usually he did not wait for his 
wife, but went straight up the staircase to his box; 
but this time he waited in the little room behind, 
giving Josephine time to join him. “She was trem- 
bling,” Madame de Rémusat goes on to say, ‘and he 

337 


338 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


was very pale. He looked at us all, and seemed to 
be trying to read from our faces what we thought his 
reception would be. At last he went forward as if 
he were charging a battery. He was greeted as usual, 
whether it was that the sight of him produced its 
usual effect —for the multitude does not change its 
habits in a moment —or that the police had taken 
precautionary measures. I had been much afraid that 
he would not be cheered, and when I perceived that 
he was, I gave a sigh of relief.” 

March 27, a week after the death of the Duke of 
Enghien, the Senate, in response to a communication 
concerning the criminal correspondence of the Eng- 
lish emissaries in Germany, said to Bonaparte, “ You 
have delivered us from the chaos of the past, you 
make us grateful for the benefits of the present; 
guarantee to us the future. Great man, complete 
your work; make it as immortal as your glory.” The 
First Consul’s reply to this official overture was meas- 
ured; he said that he would reflect upon: it; but 
every one knew that the Empire was imminent. As 
Miot de Mélito has said, the people of Paris had no 
recollections of the Bourbons or any love for them ; 
they were entirely lost from sight. And, unfortu- 
nately, the Parisians had been too long accustomed 
to bloody scenes to find anything in the events at 
Vincennes more extraordinary than in many others 
which they had witnessed. ‘The spring was begin- 
ning, and fashion had brought back the walks to 
Longchamps with more than their old-time brilliancy. 


Se) 
eo) 


LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. Be 
After criticising the show of faces and fashions, peo- 
ple began to discuss the great political change which 
was about to take place.” 

The First Consul and his wife left the Tuileries 
for Saint Cloud, where there was to be a general re- 
hearsal of the great spectacular drama entitled The 
Empire. The tribunes were transformed into cour- 
tiers; the red caps gave place to red heels. Nothing 
was thought of but etiquette, high-sounding titles, 
and court uniforms. The time of revolutionary 
songs had gone. How those rough Brutuses must 
have laughed at themselves! And the Royalists, who 
were rivalling the flatteries of the regicides, must 
have been surprised by their own recantations. From 
the moment when the palace doors were reopened 
they felt themselves drawn thither by an irresistible 
force; for in the nature of great lords there is, as 
some one has truly said, a catlike quality which keeps 
them attached to the same house, whoever may dwell 
init. As to the poor Duke of Enghien, after a few 
weeks no one ever mentioned him; he was buried in 
the same oblivion as the victims of the Terror. The 
Parisians hate gloomy memories. Moreover, the 
bloody deed at Vincennes did not prevent the Pope 
from coming, before the end of the year, to crown 
the new Emperor. Was not this ceremony to be one 
of the greatest religious formalities that had ever 
taken place in the history of the Catholic Church? 
Could one be more rigid than the Vicar of Christ? 

It is easy to imagine how this vision of a future 


340 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


court excited longings, jealousy, ambition, flattery, 
and intrigue. Every one hastened to the hunt for 
place and money. The Republican familiarity, the 
pretended austerity of the modern Spartans, had 
wholly disappeared. It was curious to observe how 
promptly the newly rich people turned themselves 
into aristocrats ; it was they who were the hardest to 
please in luxury, in their fare, in their liveries. They 
were the more eager to shine, that their shining was 
a thing of new growth. They who ought to have 
been astonished at this good fortune, instead of trying 
to astonish others, only thought of dazzling others, 
and were simple enough to think that the whole world 
admired their splendor. The men were vain of their 
laced coats, and the women rejoiced in ordering their 
ball-dresses, their trains, and their jewels. 

Amid all this monarchial excitement, which was the 
fashion and sole interest of the day, there was one 
person noticed, who was conspicuous for his opposi- 
tion; for, having a few months earlier been interested 
solely in dynastic plans, he had suddenly become 
Republican again, contrary to his interests. This man 
had been the leading supporter of the coup d état of 
Brumaire, and was the own brother of the future Em- 
peror, — Lucien Bonaparte. To get to the bottom of 
this new transformation, we must again ask: Where 
is the woman? ‘The woman was a very pretty, very 
attractive widow, twenty-six years old, Alexandrine 
de Bleschamps, whose husband, M. Jouberthon, after 
having been a stock-broker in Paris, had died in Saint 


LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. 341 


Domingo, whither he had followed the French expe- 
dition. Lucien had fallen in love with this woman, 
and, in spite of the formal commands of the First 
Consul, had married her. May 24, 1803, a son had 
been born to them, who later was to marry the Prin- 
cess Zenaide Julie, daughter of King Joseph. Napo- 
leon looked upon Lucien’s marriage as most inappro- 
priate and inadmissible, and he was very anxious to 
annul it. What he wanted was to marry Lucien to 
Queen Marie Louise, the third daughter of Charles 
IY., King of Spain, and the widow of the King of 
Etruria, Louis I., the first king whom he had set on a 
throne. Lucien was inflexible, and obstinately re- 
fused his brother’s most brilliant offers ; he preferred 
a@ woman’s love to a crown. 

According to Count Miot de Mélito, Joseph Bona- 
parte was then entrusted with the following commis- 
sion. He was to try to persuade Lucien to write to 
the First Consul a letter promising not to allow his 
wife to bear his name, not to present her to his family, 
and to wait until time and circumstances should per- 
mit with regard to this marriage a legal publicity, 
which, moreover, was to depend on his brether’s con- 
sent. For his part he would consent to see Lucien 
again as if nothing had happened and would let him 
live with this woman. The negotiation fell through. 

Napoleon was anxious to make one last effort, and 
he had an interview with his brother which he 
thought would be decisive. This took place at Saint 
Cloud, late one evening. About midnight the First 


342 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


Consul came into the drawing-room, and said, “It’s 
all over! I have just quarrelled with Lucien, and 
ordered him out of my sight.” When Josephine 
tried to interfere in behalf of her brother-in-law, from 
whom she had suffered a great deal, he said, “ You 
are very kind to plead for him,” and he kissed her 
tenderly. Then he was heard to say, “It’s hard to 
find in one’s own family opposition to such great 
interests. I shall have to isolate myself from every 
one and to depend on myself alone. Well, I shall 
suffice for myself, and Josephine will console me for 
everything.” 

What added to Napoleon’s distress was this, that 
Madame Letitia Bonaparte, his mother, sided with 
Lucien, and went with him to Italy, where he with- 
drew in the spring of 1804 to escape the importuni- 
ties and reproaches of his all-powerful brother. As 
it was, Napoleon recommended Madame Letitia and 
Lucien to the friendly offices of Pius VII., saying 
that his brother had gone to Rome out of love for 
the arts, and his mother on account of her health. 

Joseph Bonaparte, although he did not break with 
Napoleon as Lucien had done, showed that he was 
not contented. ‘He was dissatisfied,” Thiers has 
said, “‘and no one would guess the reason if history 
were not to take pains to record it. He was sore 
because the First Consul was anxious to appoint 
him President of the Senate, and he had refused 
that high position with an air of offended dignity 
when M. Cambacérés had offered it to him at the 


LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. 348 
suggestion of the First Consul. Bonaparte, who de- 
tested idleness, had sent him word in that case to 
seek for greatness where he himself had found it; 
that is to say, with the army. Joseph, appointed 
colonel of the 4th of the Line, left for Boulogne 
at the moment when the great question of the re-es- 
tablishment of the monarchy came up for discussion.” 

As for Jerome Bonaparte, the youngest of Napo- 
leon’s brothers, he was in rebellion against his brother, 
like Lucien, and for a similar reason. In 1803, after 
the renewal of the war, after the treaty of Amiens, 
Jerome, at that time a naval officer, had been chased 
by English ships, and had landed in the United 
States. At Baltimore he had fallen in love with the 
daughter of one of the richest and most respectable 
citizens of that place, Miss Elizabeth Paterson. He 
had communicated to M. Pichou, Consul-General of 
France at Washington, his intention to marry this 
young woman, who was very charming, and the mar- 
riage had taken place. Jerome, who was born 
November 15, 1784, was not then quite twenty years 
old, and the law of September 20, 1792, declared null 
and void every marriage contracted by a person less 
than twenty years old, without the consent of both 
parents. It was only February 22, 1805, that, by 
command of the Emperor, Madame Letitia Bonaparte 
placed in the hands of M. Raguideau, notary, a pro- 
test against her son’s marriage. In 1804, Jerome, 
whose resistance to his brother’s commands was des- 
tined to be of but brief duration, had sworn that he 


344 THE WIFE OF JHE FIRST CONSUL. 


would not for an empire repudiate a woman whom 
he esteemed as well as loved. Napoleon, who was 
dreaming of crowns for his brothers, was annoyed 
at this opposition, and excluded Jerome, as well as 
Lucien, from the right of succession to the Empire. 
Thus the situation of the Bonaparte family did not 
favor the establishment of the principle of hereditary 
succession. Napoleon was married to a woman who 
could have no children. His eldest brother, Joseph, 
had no sons; and his other brothers, Lucien and Je- 
rome, had just contracted marriages which were, in 
his eyes, misalliances which could not be pardoned. 
There was then left only his brother Louis to per- 
petuate the imperial race. By his marriage with 
Hortense de Beauharnais he had one son, Napoleon 
Charles, born in Paris, October 10, 1802, who was 
destined to die at the Hague, May 5, 1807. Napo- 
leon was very fond of this child, who scandalmongers 
pretended was his own, and he desired to make him 
the heir to the Empire, excluding Joseph and Louis, 
but Louis offered an insurmountable opposition to 
this plan. “ Why,” he asked his brother, “ why 
must I resign to my son a part of your succession ? 
Why do I deserve to be disinherited? What will be 
my condition, when this child, having become yours, 
shall find himself in a position superior to mine, inde- 
pendent of me, holding the place next to you, and 
eying me with uneasiness, or possibly even with 
contempt? No, I shall never consent to it; and 
rather than consent to bow my head before my son, I 


LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. 345 


shall leave France and take Napoleon with me, and 
we shall see if, in the face of the world, you will dare 
to take a child from his father!” 

The Monarchy was not yet restored; the crown, 
with its succession a matter of premature dispute, 
was not yet placed on the First Consul’s head; 
and already we see in the embryonic court the 
same passions, jealousies, and dissension that we find 
in the court of an old kingdom, or of an old estab- 
lished empire. But Napoleon, whose mighty figure 
eclipsed and dominated everything, soon caused all 
the cupidity and rivalries of his courtiers to be for- 
gotten. Joseph, Lucien, Louis, and Jerome, who all 
were dependent on their brother’s favor, were soon 
lost in the background. Lucien, in his voluntary 
exile in Rome, indulged in a few lamentations, but 
his voice found no echo. He wrote: “ Why has not 
Bonaparte, that great general, remained steadfast to 
philosophic and humanitarian ideas? I can _posi- 
tively affirm that they were the first belief of his 
youth and of a soul liberal by nature.... <A horde 
of improvised flatterers preferred the childish and 
servile dignity of an absolute ruler to the wise and 
austere representation of a popular chief magistrate. 
My admiration for Washington’s character does not 
prevent my thinking that he would have found it 
difficult to withstand the current which my brother 
has not wished, or has not been able, to resist. If all 
the fellow-soldiers of the American hero, and the offi- 
cials who had an equal share in founding the Ameri. 


346 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


can Republic, had agreed to substitute a crown for 
the Presidential toga, what would the modern Cin- 
cinnatus have done?” And again he wrote as fol- 
lows: “Yes, Napoleon, you were without doubt 
guilty of absorbing our public liberties in the splen- 
dor of your military glory, but it must in fairness be 
acknowledged that they were already destroyed by 
those who should have been their guardians and 
defenders ; and never, it must be said, was any great 
political body so openly abject as was the majority of 
the Senate, which could not hear without a blush, 
and without applying it to itself, that line of Racine 
in which he says that the ready servility of the 
Roman Senate wearied Tiberius.” 

The great bodies of the State began to rival one 
another in monarchical enthusiasm. A tribune on 
the 28th of April proposed an hereditary empire. On 
the 3d of May the whole Tribunate, with the excep- 
tion of Carnot, adopted the proposal. All the mem- 
bers of the legislative body who happened to be in 
Paris agreed to it most eagerly. The next day the 
Senate tried to disprove the statement that the Tribu- 
nate had taken the first steps, and boasted that they 
had themselves made the beginning six weeks earlier. 
As to the Council of State, it had accepted it by 
twenty votes out of twenty-seven. At its meeting on 
May 18, the Senate adopted a Senatus-consultum as 
follows: “ The following proposition will be presented 
to the French people: ‘ The French people desires the 
hereditary succession of the Imperial dignity in the 


LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. 347 


direct, natural, legitimate, and adoptive line of Napo- 
leon Bonaparte, and in the direct, natural, legitimate 
line of Joseph Bonaparte and Louis Bonaparte.’” As 
soon as the vote was taken, every senator rushed to 
his carriage to drive to Saint Cloud, hastening thither 
to see the new sovereign and to be seen of him, with 
their faces full of devotion, joy, and admiration. Ten 
years later these men were to assume a very different 
attitude when they had learned the difference between 
the setting and the rising sun, as well as the fact that 
in France more than anywhere else a sovereign’s first 
duty is to be fortunate. Now, however, everything 
was radiant with joy ; it was in the spring, the weather 
was faultless, and Napoleon was surer than ever that 
he controlled fate. The more it had given, the more 
he wished to ask, and his demands were to know no 
bounds, for he regarded it as his servant who could 
refuse him nothing. At the moment when the Senate 
came to salute him with his new title of Emperor, he 
was standing in uniform in the magnificent Gallery 
of Apollo decorated with mythological frescos by 
Mignard, and brilliant with all the pomp of the great 
century. Josephine, joyful and uneasy at the same 
time, was by her husband’s side, modestly sharing his 
triumph. 

Cambacérés, as the spokesman of the Senate, uttered 
a formal speech, which began thus: “ Sire, the affec- 
tion and gratitude of the French people have for four 
years confided to your Majesty the reins of govern- 
ment, and the different bodies of the State entrusted 


348 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


to you the choice of a successor. The imposing title 
which is given to you to-day is nothing more than 
a tribute which the nation pays to its own dignity 
and to the need it feels of offering to you every day 
the testimony of a respect and devotion which every 
day sees increasing.” And he thus concluded his 
speech: “ Happy the nation which after so many 
troubles finds a man capable of pacifying the storm 
of passions, of conciliating every interest, of harmo- 
nizing all the voices! If it is one of the principles 
of our Constitution that the part of the decree which 
establishes an hereditary government should be sub- 
mitted to the people, the Senate has thought that it 
should request your Imperial Majesty to consent that 
the necessary measures should be taken at once; and 
for the glory as well as for the happiness of the 
French Republic, it proclaims at this very moment, 
Napoleon Emperor of the French.” At once enthu- 
siastic applause broke out in the Gallery of Apollo, 
as well as in other parts of the palace, even in the 
courtyards and gardens. 

The multitude, in its credulity and optimism, im- 
agined that the Empire was a talisman, a panacea, 
curing all woes and bringing every benefit. This 
ery of “Long live the Emperor!” which was to be 
heard on so many battle-fields, now filled the air for 
the first time. Napoleon, who had attained his object, 
hides his pride and exultation beneath an impassible 
calmness. One would say that he was born to the 
throne, so readilv does he adapt himself to the part 


LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. 349 


of a monarch, such obedience, respect, and devotion 
does he find about him. As soon as silence prevailed 
he spoke thus in reply to Cambacérés: “ Everything 
which can contribute to my country’s happiness is 
intimately connected with my happiness. I accept 
the title which you consider important to the nation’s 
glory; I submit to asking the sanction of the people 
to the law of hereditary succession; I hope that 
France will never repent the honors it bestows on 
my family. In any event, my spirit would no longer 
be with my posterity whenever it should cease to 
deserve the love and confidence of the grand nation.” 

Then it was the turn of the new Empress to receive 
the homage of the Senate. Cambacérés addressed 
her in these terms: ‘“‘ Madame, the Senate has still 
an agreeable duty to perform, that of offering to your 
Imperial Majesty the homage of its respect and the 
expression of the gratitude of the French people. 
Yes, Madame, France makes known the good you 
are never tired of doing. It says that, always acces- 
sible to the unfortunate, you never exercise your 
influence over the head of the State, save to console 
their misery, and that to the pleasure of obliging 
them your Majesty adds that amiable delicacy which 
makes gratitude sweeter and the benefit more pre- 
cious. This happy disposition is a sure token that 
the name of the Empress Josephine will be the signal 
of consolation and hope, and, as the virtues of Napo- 
leon will always serve as an example to his successors 
to teach them the art of governing nations, so the 


300 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 


undying memory of your kindness will teach their 
august companions that the art of drying tears is the 
surest way of ruling over men’s hearts. The Senate 
congratulates itself on being the first to greet your 
Imperial Majesty, and he who has the honor to be its 
spokesman presumes to hope that you will deign to 
count him in the number of your most faithful 
servants.” 

Josephine, the modest and gracious creole, was then 
exalted to the rank of a sovereign, and the prophecy 
of the black fortune-teller was verified. France was 
about to sanction by an almost unanimous vote — five 
and a half millions to two thousand — the Napoleonic 

dynasty. The few objectors who might have wished 
- to put themselves in the way of this triumphal chariot, 
stepped aside. Amid the chorus of noisy applause 
which burst out everywhere, no discordant note was 
heard. In all quarters there was nothing but flattery, 
congratulations, the flourish of trumpets, in towns, 
in the country, under gilded ceilings, under the roofs 
of huts, in public places, in the camps; and yet, 
though she had reached this height, Josephine was 
rather anxious than happy. She did not care to rise 
to such a height, and the sight of the abyss from this 
lofty elevation made her giddy. She felt that as her 
fortune grew her happiness diminished, and that a 
crown would lie heavy on her brow. It was enough 
for her to be a loving woman. She had no need to 
be an Imperial Highness. The sceptre was an idle 
toy ; a fan sufficed her. 


LAST DAYS OF THE CONSULATE. 3851 


While Napoleon’s sisters were rejoicing at the 
thought that they were to be princesses, and their 
brother an Emperor, Josephine, tormented by this 
lofty rank, could not accustom herself to the idea 
that she was succeeding the unfortunate Marie 
Antoinette on the throne of France, and her unex- 
pected sovereignty seemed to her an anomaly, almost 
a usurpation. In her eyes the throne was surrounded 
with snares; and her instinct was right. Something 
said to her: Nothing of all this will last, nothing 
except sorrow. 

Strange lesson for human pride, clear proof of the 
nothingness of glory; ignorance was clearer-sighted 
than genius; the eyes of the dove saw further than 
the eyes of the eagle! Napoleon despised men who 
took counsel of women, and yet he would have done 
well, and would probably have escaped his ruin, had 
he listened to Josephine. What did she advise him? 
Moderation, clemency, fidelity to the Republic to 
which he owed his unexampled good fortune. If she 
had had more influence over him, he would not have 
put to death the Duke of Enghien, an incident which, 
though forgotten in France, was to be, as Thiers has 
pointed out, the main cause of a third general war 
and the inspiration of the successive coalitions which 
finally crushed the hero of so many battles. He 
would not have renounced the glorious title of First 
Consul for another, more majestic, but less lasting ; 
he would not have made his brothers kings of a day ; 
he would have remained the first citizen of a great 


302 THE WIFE OF TUE FIRST CONSUL. 
Republic. He would have controlled his genius, his 
ambition, and his pride. But instead of letting him- 
self be controlled by his wife’s gentler charm, the 
giant, fascinated, intoxicated by his own glory, made 
of his existence a vast romance which could end only 
in a catastrophe as great as his triumph. Such was 
the mockery of Fate! The humble creole judged 
events more wisely than the great Emperor, and said 
to herself, that if the wife of the First Consul had 
been less happy than the wife of the Citizen Bona- 
parte, the Empress of the French, the Queen of Italy, 
would be more wretched than the wife of the First 
Consul. 


INDEX. 


Abrantés, Duchess of, her ‘‘ History 
of Paris Drawing-rooms,’’quoted, 
45, 50; her writings, 165. 

Acting at Malmaison, 119 et seq. 

** Almanack of the Nineteenth Cen- 
tury,’’ 29. 

Aune, Sergeant, Napoleon’s letter 
to, 49. 


Ballad sung in the streets concern- 
ing the infernal machine, 95. 

Bastille, festival of the taking of, 66. 

Beauharnais, Mlle. de, her tomb at 
Reuil, 2; receives Napoleon at 
Malmaison after Waterloo, 5; re- 
fused entrance at Malmaison, 10; 
her acting at Malmaison, 119, 124; 
her early life, 129; at school, 130; 
Napoleon’s affection for her, 131; 
her poetic nature, 132; her prefer- 
ence for Duroc, 134; marriage 
of, 142. See also Madame Louis 
Bonaparte. 

Belgium, Napoleon’s journey to, 
267 et seq. 

Bénezech, State-Councillor, 42. 

Bernadotte, General, his attitude 
to Napoleon, 296. 

Bonaparte, Madame (mere), favors 
Lucien’s marriage, 342; protests 
against Jerome’s, 343. 

Bonaparte, Caroline, her marriage, 
23 et seg.; her appearance, 24, 
143. 

Bonaparte, Jerome, his marriage to 
Miss Paterson, 343. 

Bonaparte, Joseph, dissatisfaction 
of, 342, 


Bonaparte, Louis, 134; marriage 
of, 142; his suspicious character, 
147 et seq. 

Bonaparte, Madame Louis, her un- 
congenial marriage, 144; at Mal- 
maison, 146; odious suspicions 
of, 147; birth of her son, 148; 
her sufferings and faults, 151. 

Bonaparte, Lucien, balls at his 
palace, 53; his speech at the 
Bastille celebration, 67; in the 
temple of Mars, 73; his marriage, 
341; and alienation from Napo- 
leon, 341; succession of his son, 
344. 

Bonaparte, Pauline, her beauty, 
285; her marriage to General 
Leclerc, 277; accompanies him 
to Saint Domingo, 279; her de- 
votion to him, 279; her grief for 
his death, 281; marries Prince 
Borghese, 282. 

Borghese, Princess. 
Bonaparte. 

Bourrienne, as an actor, 120; de- 
nounces the calumnies respecting 
Napoleon and Hortense, 149. 


See Pauline 


Cadoudal, Georges, the conspirator, 
85; capture of, 303; his birth 
and career, 304; interview with 
Napoleon, 305; organizes a con- 
spiracy, 306; returns to Paris, 
307. 

Cambacérés, his speech to Napo- 
leon conferring the Imperial title, 
348. 

Campan, Madame, 125; her board- 


353 


854 


INDEX. 


ing-school at Saint Germain, 130; 
supports Louis Bonaparte’s mar- 
riage to Hortense, 135; letter of, 
to Hortense on her marriage, 
141. 

Ceracchi and Arena, the conspira- 
tors, 86. 

Chaptal, M., his féte in honor of 
the King of Etruria, 108. 

Charlot, Major, abducts the Duke 
of Enghien, 316. 

Chateaubriand, return of, to Paris, 
60; on the charms of. society in 
Consular Paris, 101; his descrip- 
tion of Talma, 103; his ‘‘ Genius 
of Christianity,’’ 175. 

Concordat, establishment of, 170; 
ceremonies at Notre Dame, 170 ; 
ladies present at, 171. 

Conspiracies against Napoleon, 85 
et seq., 300 et seq. 


Dalmas’s retort to Napoleon, 173. 

Dologrouki, Princess, letters of, 
quoted, 44. 

Duroc, 133, commissioned as Gen- 
eral of division, 138. 


Emigrés, the, and Napoleon, 180. 

Empire, the word used in the days 
of the Republic, 68; the proposed, 
346; consummated, 347. 

Enghien, Duke of, 311; his birth 
and career, 313; at Ettenheim, 
313; his arrest determined, 315; 
abducted from Ettenheim, 317; 
taken to Vincennes, 311, 320; his 
trial, 323; his execution, 324; 
funeral service for him at St. 
Petersburg, 320. 

England fomenting conspiracies 
against Napoleon, 306. 

Etruria, King of, visit of, in Paris, 
104; entertainments in honor of, 
107 et seq. 


Festival of General Peace, the, 111. 


Garat, the singer, 102; Baroness de 
Kridener’s devotion to, 103, 


Genlis, Madam de, return of, to 
Paris, 61. 
Grunstein, General de, 316. 


Hainguerlot, M., 56. 

Harville, Madame d’, 46. 

Hohenlinden, victory of, 290. 

Hortense. See Mlle. de Beauhar- 
nais. 

Hulot, Madame, incensed with Na- 
poleon, 291. 

Hugo, Victor, his poem on Napo- 
leon, 217, 334. 


Infernal machine, the, 85 et seq.; 
street ballad concerning, 95. 


Josephine, her tomb at Reuil, 1; 
death of, at Malmaison, 4; her 
freedom from ambition, 32; her 
receptions at the Tuileries, 44 
et seq.; affection of Bonaparte 
for, 65; her life at Malmaison, 
78; her remarkable social tact, 
83; her first premonitions of the 
divorce, 96; her fondness for 
dress and pleasure, 104; her de- 
light in rustic scenes, 125; her 
affection for Malmaison, 126; 
jealousy of, 150; at ease with the 
émigrés, 183; her forebodings, 
191; begs Napoleon not to be a 
king, 192; her popularity in 1803, 
234; her charm, 236; her kind- 
ness, 237; her faults, 239; Napo- 
leon’s tribute to her qualities, 
242; accompanies Napoleon on 
the journey to Belgium, 267; her 
queenly bearing, 271, 276; her 
tact and affability, 292; informs 
Madame de Rémusat of the fate 
of the Duke of Enghien, 319; her 
distress at the Duke of Enghien’s 
execution, 327; declared Empress, 
349, 

Junot, General, 153 et seq. 

Junot, Madame, 153; anecdote of 
Napoleon and, 155 et seg. See 
Duchess of Abrantés. 


INDEX. 


359 


Kriidener, the Baroness de, her 
influence on the destiny of Na- 
poleon, 103. 


Lamartine sings the denunciation 
of Napoleon’s murder of the 
Duke of Enghien, 334. 

Lameth, Madame de, 46. 

Lauriston, Madame de, 46. 

La Rochefoucauld, Madame de, 
45. 

La Valette, Madame de, 46. 

Leclerc, General, his marriage to 
Pauline Bonaparte, 277; sails for 
Saint Domingo, 279; his death, 
280. 

Lemoinne, M. John, criticism of 
Napoleon, 257. 


Malmaison, 3 et seqg.; sale of and 
subsequent history, 11 et seq.; 
sports at, 81; the unceremonious 
life of Bonaparte at, 75 et seq.; 
description of the house and 
grounds of, 76 et seg.; Napoleon’s 
favorite resort, 80; enlarged and 
beautified, 115; destruction of 
the park, 125. 

Marengo, victory of, its impor- 
tance to Napoleon, 63. 

Méchin, Madame, 55. 

Metternich, Prince, at Saint Cloud, 
1815, 213. 

Military reviews of the First Con- 
sul, 47 et seq. 

Moniteur, the, on the opera balls, 
57. 

Montesson, Marchioness of, her 
entertainments, 109; ball given 
by, in honor of Hortense, 144. 

Moreau, General, the cause of his 
hatred of Napoleon, 288; wins 
the battle of Hohenlinden, 290; 
his hostility to Napoleon, 296; 
his insolence to the men of the 
old régime, 298; his arrest, 299, 
301. 

Moreau, Madame, her jealousy of 
Napoleon, 288; her marriage to 


General Moreau, 290; ber accoms 
plishments, 291. 

Mun, M. de, 154. 

Murat, his marriage to Caroline 
Bonaparte, 23 et seq.; his charac- 
ter, 25; his marriage solemnized, 
145, 


Napoleon at Malmaison, 5; his pro- 
posal to the Provisional Govern- 
ment, 7; his departure from Mal- 
maison, 9; as First Consul, 22; 
his aversion to Murat, 25; installs 
himself in the Tuileries, 31 et 
seq.; entrance in state into the 
Tuileries, 33 et seg.; his apart- 
ments, 41; society of his court, 
43 et seg.; his ascendancy, 47; 
his tact with soldiers, 48; at 
Lucien Bonaparte’s ball, 55; at 
Paris after Marengo, 63 et seq.; 
his affection for Josephine, 65; 
his life at Malmaison, 80; con- 
spiracies against, 85; the infernal 
machine, 89 et seq.; his sisters 
at the head of society, 101; his 
treatment of the King of Etruria, 
105; his fondness for theatrical 
performances at Malmaison, 121; 
desires a more magnificent resi- 
dence than Malmaison, 127; fa- 
vors Duroc’s marriage to Hor- 
tense, 154; his account of Louis 
and the calumnies concerning 
Hortense and himself, 150; his 
religion, 167; his policy with the 
émigrés, 180 et seg.; his double 
nature, 181; afraid of women, 
183; his plan for controlling the 
nobility, 185; his absolute power, 
187; Consul for life, 188; his 
fears of the Bourbons, 189; as- 
sumes the name Napoleon, 195; 
his remains brought back to 
Paris by the Bourbons, 217; most 
truly himself as First Consul, 
218; Saint-Amand’s estimate of 
his character, 219 et seg. ; was he 
religious? 219 et seg.; was he 


356 


INDEX. 


kind? 222; did he like women? 
226; was he a man of intelli- 
gence? 228; had he imagination ? 
229; a great man, 231; his daily 
habits, 240; his affection for Jo- 
sephine cooled, 241; the changes 
of opinion concerning, 253; his 
angry demonstration to Lord 
Whitworth, 263; his journey to 
Belgium, 266 et seg.; his rude- 
ness to Madame Hulot, 291; his 
dislike to Madame Moreau, 292; 
unable to hide his antipathies, 
292; his horror of rivalry, 293; 
his anxiety for Cadoudal’s ar- 
rest, 304; his interview with 
him, 305; anxiety of, at the time 
of the conspiracy, 309; his grow- 
ing irritation, 313; determines to 
abduct the Duke of Enghien, 315; 
signs his death warrant, 322; his 
demeanor after the execution, 
325; his impassiveness, 329; de- 
fends himself and admits his 
fault, 331; quarrels with Lucien, 
342; the title of Emperor be- 
stowed upon him, 347. 

Napoleon III. refused entrance at 
Malmaison, 10. 


Opera balls in Paris, 56. 
Ordener, Colonel, 316. 


Paris at the beginning of the Con- 
sulate, 52 e¢ seg.; dancing in, at 
the beginning of the Consulate, 
56; in 1801, 98 et seqg.; the new 
society imitates the old nobility, 
99. 

Permon, Madame de, 152 et seq. 

Perregaux, M., 55. 

Pichegru, General, arrest of, 303; 
reaches Paris, 307; his interview 
with Moreau, 308. 

Pontmartin, Count Armand de, his 
defence of Napoleon, 257. 


Quinet, Edgar, his description of 
the feeling at the beginning of 
the Consulate, 52; quoted, 167. 


Réal, M., arrives too late to save 
the Duke of Enghien, 324. 

Récamier, M., 56. 

Récamier, Madame, and Lucien 
Bonaparte, 53; enthusiasm over 
her beauty, 102. 

Régnault, Madame, 55. 

Rémusat, Charles de, his eulogy of 
Napoleon, 253. 

Rémusat, Madame de, 46; quoted, 
147, 148; her description of Jose- 
phine’s personal charm, 236; her 
birth and station, 244 et seq.; 
Napoleon liked to talk with her, 
245; her attractions, 246; her 
adventure with Napoleon, 248; 
destroys her diary, 251; her 
Memoirs, 252; her death, 254; 
literary value of her Memoirs, 
255. 

Rohan, Princess de, 314; follows 
the Duke of Enghien and is ar- 
rested, 318. 

Reuil, funeral adornments of Jose- 
phine and Hortense in the church 
of, 1. 


Saint Cloud, its present aspect, 197; 
review of its history, 201; de- 
struction of in 1871, 205; its 
magnificent embellishments, 206; 
etiquette and household, 208; the 
chapel and theatre, 209; park of, 
210; Napoleon’s room at, 211; 
Prussians’ occupation of, in 1815, 


213. 

Saint Germain, the Faubourg, the 
great families of, 178 et seq. 

St. Réjant’s infernal machine, 88. 

Savary, Colonel, watching for con- 
spirators at Biville, 313; sent 
with the order for the execution 
of the Duke of Enghein, 322. 

Séguin, M., 55. 

Ségur, General de, receives his ap- 
pointment from Napoleon, 212; 
his account of Moreau’s rudeness, 
298. 


Talhouet, Madame de, 46. 


INDEX. 357 


Talleyrand entertains the King of | Tuileries,the, becomes the residence 
Etruria, 107; gives a ball after} of the First Consul, 33; apart- 
the death of the Duke of Enghien,} ments of Napoleon and Josephine 
328. in, 41 et seqg.; society of, under 

Talma, a personal friend of Napo-| the First Consul, 43. 
leon, 103. 

Théatre Francais, the, 104. Vincennes, castle of, the Duke of 

Theatre erected at Malmaison, 119.| Enghien at, 321. 

Thebaudeau, his Memoirs on the| Visconti, Madame, 55. 

Consulate, quoted, 42. 

Thiers quoted, 166, 168. Whitworth, Lord, Napoleon’s an- 

Thumery, Marquis de, with the| gry reception of, 263; demands 
Duke of Enghien, 314. his passports, 263. 


4h 


cate 


UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 


944.05 J773WIM: C001 
Wife of the first consul 


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